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HISTORY 



OF 






THE ANGLO-SAXONS 



FROM THE 



Ifiarlust {briotf to tijc Jlorman Conquest. 



BY 



THOMAS MILLER, 

AUTHOR OF " ROYSTON GOWER," " LADY JANE GREY, 
" PICTURES OF COUNTRY LIFE," ETC. 



Btcavto iEttttum. 



LONDON: 
DAVID BOGUE, FLEET STREET. 

MDCCCL. 



I* 

CONTENTS. 



f 



CHAPTER I. 

THE DAWN" OF HISTORY. 

Obscurity of early history — Our ancient monuments a mystery — The Welsh 
Triads — Language of the first inhabitants of Britain unknown — Wonders 
of the ancient world p. 5 

CHAPTER II. 

THE ANCIENT BRITONS. 

The Celtic Tribes — Britain known to the Phoenicians and Greeks — The an- 
cient Cymry — Different classes of the early Britons — Their personal ap- 
pearance — Description of their forest-towns — A British hunter — Interior 
of an ancient hut — Costume of the old Cymry — Ancient armour and 
weapons — British war-chariots — The fearful havoc they made in battle 

p. 12 
CHAPTER III. 

THE DRUIDS. 

Interior of an old British forest — Druidical sacrifice — Their treasures — 
Their mysterious rites and ceremonies — The power they possessed — 
Their belief in a future state — Their wild superstitions — An arch-Druid 
described — Their veneration for the mistletoe — Description of the Druids 
offering up sacrifice — The gloomy grandeur of their ancient groves — Con- 
trast between the idols of the Druids and the heathen gods of the Bomans 

p. 17 
CHAPTER IV. 

LANDING OF JULIUS CESAR. 

Caesar's reasons for invading Britain — Despatches "Volusenus from Gaul to 
reconnoitre the island — Is intimidated by the force he finds arranged along 

b 2 



IV CONTENTS. 

the cliffs of Dover — Lands near Sandwich — Courage of the Roman 
Standard-bearer — Combat between the Britons and Romans — Defeat and 
submission of the Britons — Wreck of the Roman galleys — Perilous posi- 
tion of the invaders — Roman soldiers attacked in a corn-field, rescued by 
the arrival of their general — Britons attack the Roman encampment, are 
again defeated, and pursued by the Roman cavalry — Caesar's hasty depar- 
ture from Britain — Return of the Romans at spring — Description of their 
armed galleys — Determination of Caesar to conquer Britain — Picturesque 
description of the night march of the Roman legions into Kent — Battle 
beside a river — Difficulties the Romans encounter in their marches through 
the ancient British forests — Caesar's hasty retreat to his encampment — 
The Roman galleys again wrecked — Cessation of hostilities — Cassivel- 
launus assumes the command of the Britons — His skill as a general — 
Obtains an advantage over the Romans with his war-chariots — Attacks 
the Roman encampment by night and slays the outer guard — Defeats the 
two cohorts that advance to their rescue, and slays a Roman tribune — 
Renewal of the battle on the following day — Caesar compelled to call in 
the foragers to strengthen his army — Splendid charge of the Roman cavalry 

— Overthrow and retreat of the Britons — Cossar marches through Kent and 
Surrey in pursuit of the British army — Crosses the Thames near Chertsey 

— Retreat of the British general — Cuts off the supplies of the Romans, 
and harasses the army with his war-chariots — Stratagems adopted by the 
Britons — Cassivellaunus betrayed by his countrymen — His fortress at- 
tacked in the forest — Contemplates the destruction of the Roman fleet — 
Attack of the Kentish men on the encampment of the invaders — The 
Romans again victorious — Cassivellaunus sues for peace — Final departure 
of Caesar from Britain p. 30 

CHAPTER V. 

CARACTACUS, BOADICEA, AND AGRICOLA. 

State of Britain after the departure of Caesar — Landing of Plautius — His 
skirmishes with the Britons in the marshes beside the Thames — Arrival of 
the Roman emperor Claudius — Ostorius conquers and disarms the Britons 
— Rise of Caractacus — British encampment in Wales — Caractacus de- 
feated, betrayed by his step-mother, and carried captive to Rome — Death of 
the Roman general Ostorius — Retreat of the Druids to the Isle of Angle- 
sey — Suetonius attacks the island — Consternation of the Roman soldiers 
on landing — Massacre of the Druids, and destruction of their groves and 
altars — Boadicea, queen of the Iceni, assumes the command of the Britons 

— Her sufferings — She prepares for battle, attacks the Roman colony of 
Camaladonum — Her terrible vengeance — Her march into London, and 



CONTENTS. V 

•destruction of the Romans — Picturesque description of Boadicea and her 
daughters in her ancient British war-chariot — Harangues her soldiers — 
Is defeated by Suetonius, and destroys herself — Agricola lands in Britain 
— His mild measures — Instructs the islanders in agriculture and architec- 
ture — Leads the Roman legions iuto Caledonia, and attacks the men of the 
woods — Bravery of Galgacus, the Caledonian chief — Agricola sails round 
the coast of Scotland — Erects a Roman rampart to prevent the Caledonians 
from invading Britain p. 40 



CHAPTER VI. 

DEPARTURE OF THE ROMANS. 

Adrian strengthens and extends the Roman fortifications — Description of these 
ancient barriers, and the combats that took place before them — Wall erected 
by the emperor Severus — He marches into Caledonia, reaches the Frith of 
Moray — Great mortality amongst the Roman legions — Severus dies at 
York — Picturesque description of the Roman sentinels guarding the ancient 
fortresses — Attack of the northern barbarians — Peace of Britain under 
the government of Caracalla — Arrival of the Saxon and Scandinavian 
pirates — The British Channel protected by the naval commander, Carausius 
— His assassination at York — Constantine the Great — Theodosius con- 
quers the Saxons — Rebellion of the Roman soldiers; they elect their own 
general — Alaric, the Goth, overruns the Roman territories — British sol- 
diers sent abroad to strengthen the Roman ranks — Decline of the Roman 
power in Britain — Ravages of the Picts, Scots, and Saxons — The Britons 
apply in vain for assistance from Rome — Miserable condition in which 
they are left on the departure of the Romans — War between the Britons 
and the remnant of the invaders — Vortigern, king of the Britons — A 
league with the Saxons , p. 50 



CHAPTER VII. 

BRITAIN AFTEE THE ROMAN PERIOD. 

Great change produced in Britain by the Romans — Its ancient features con- 
trasted with its appearance after their departure — Picturesque description 
of Britain — First dawn of Christianity — Progress of the Britons in civiliza- 
tion — Old British fortifications — Change in the costume of the Britons — 
Decline in their martial deportment — Their ancient mode of burial — De- 
scription of early British barrows — Ascendancy of rank . . . . p. 56 



VI CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE ANCIENT SAXONS. 

Origin of the early Saxons — Description of their habits and arms — Their re- 
ligion — The halls of Valhalia — Their belief in rewards and punishments 
after death — 'Their ancient mythology described — Superstitions of the 
«arly Saxons — Their ancient temples and forms of worship — Their pic- 
turesque processions — Dreadful punishments inflicted upon those who 
robbed their temples — Different orders of society — Their divisions of 
the seasons — Their bravery as pirates, and skill in navigation . . p. 64 

CHAPTER IX. 

HENGIST, HORSA, ROWENA, AND YORTIGERN. 

Landing of Hengist and Horsa, the Saxon chiefs — Their treaty with Yortigern 
and the British chiefs — The British king allots them the Isle of Thanet as 
a residence, on condition that they drive out the Picts and Scots — Success 
of the Saxons — Arrival of more ships — Landing of the Princess Bowena 
— Marriage of Yortigern and Bowena — Quarrel between the Britons and 
Saxons — Description of their first battle by the old Welsh bards — The 
Britons led on by the sons of Vortigern — Death of Horsa, the Saxon chief 
— Bowena's revenge — Pretended reconciliation of the Saxons, and descrip- 
tion of the feast where the Bi-itish chiefs were massacred — Terrible death 
of Yortigern and the fair Bowena p. 72 

CHAPTER X. 

ELLA, CERDRIC, AND KING ARTHUR. 

Arrival of Ella and his three sons — Combat between the Saxons and Britons 
beside the ancient forest of Audredswold — Defeat of the Britons, and desolate 
appearance of the old forest town of Andred-Ceaster after the battle — Re- 
vengeful feelings of the Britons — Establishment of the Saxon kingdom of 
Sussex — -Landing of Cerdric and his followers — Battle of Churdfrid, and 
death of the British king Natauleod — Arrival of Cerdric's kinsmen — The 
Britons again defeated — Arthur, the British king, arms in defence of his 
country — His adventures described — Numbers of battles in which he 
fought — Death of king Arthur in the field of Camlan — Discovery of his 
remains in the abbey of Glastonbury p. 83 



CONTENTS. V1X 

CHAPTER XL 

ESTABLISHMENT OP THE SAXON OCTARCHY. 

Landing of Erkenwin — The establishment of the kingdom of Wessex — De- 
scription of London — Arrival of Ida and his twelve sons — The British 
chiefs make a bold stand against Ida — Bravery of Urien — Description of 
the battle of the pleasant valley, by Taliesin, the British bard — Llywarch's 
elegy on the death of Urien — Beautiful description of the battle of Cattraeth 
by Aneurin, the Welsh bard — Establishment of the kingdom of Mercia — - 
Description of the divisions of England which formed the Saxon Octarchy 
— Amalgamation of the British and Saxon population — Retirement of the 
unconquered remnant of the ancient Cymry into Wales .... p. 90 

CHAPTER XII. 

CONVERSION OF ETHELBERT. 

Commencement of the civil war amongst the Saxons — Struggle between Ethel- 
bert, king of Kent, and Ceawlin, king of Wessex, for the title of Bretwalda 
— Description of the slave-market of Borne — Monk Gregory's admiration 
of the British captives — Gregory becomes pontiff, and despatches Augustin 
with fifty monks to convert the inhabitants of Britain — Picturesque descrip- 
tion of the landing of the Christian missionaries in the Isle of Thanet — 
Intercession of Bertha — Ethelbert's interview with Augustin and his foL 
lowers — The missionaries take up their residence in Canterbury — Conver- 
sion of Ethelbert — Augustin is made Archbishop, by Pope Gregory — The 
rich presents sent to Britain by the Pope — Character of the Soman pontiff 
— His wise policy in not abolishing at once all outward forms of heathen 
worship — Eadbald ascends the throne of Kent — Marries his stepmother, 
and is denounced by the priests — He renounces the Christian faith — The 
monks are driven out of Essex — Eadwald again acknowledges the true 
faith, and the- persecuted priests find shelter in the kingdom of Kent 

p. 99 

CHAPTER XIII. 

EDWIN, KING OF THE DEIRI AND BERNICIA. 

Adventures of Edwin, king of the Deiri — His residence in Wales with Cadvau, 
one of the ancient British kings — Ethelfrith having deprived him of his 
kingdom, seeks his life — Edwin flies from Wales, and seeks the protection of 
Bedwald, king of East Anglia — Edwin's dream — The queen of East Angiia 
intercedes in behalf of Edwin — Bedwald prepares to wage war with Ethel- 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

frith — Religion of the king of East Anglia — Description of the battle 
fought between Redwald and Ethelfrith on the banks of the river Idel — 
Death of Ethelfrith, and accession of Edwin to the throne of Northumbria 
— Edwin's marriage with Edilburga, daughter of Ethelbert — Journey of 
the Saxon princess from Kent to Northumbria — Attempted assassination 
of Edwin — Paulinus endeavours in vain to convert Edwin to the Christian 
faith — The king assembles his pagan priests and nobles to discuss the new 
religion — Speech of Coifi, the heathen priest — Beautiful and poetical 
address of a Saxon chief to the assembly — Coifi desecrates the temple of 
Woden — Peaceful state of Northumbria under the reign of Edwin — Death 
of Edwin at the battle of Hatfield- chase in Yorkshire — Victories of Cad- 
wallan, the British king — Triumph of the Saxons under Oswald, and death 
of Cadwallan at the battle called Heaven-field p. Ill 

CHAPTER XIV. 

PENDA, THE PAGAN MONARCH OF MERCIA. 

Description of the kingdom of Mercia — Character of Penda, the pagan king 
— Charity of Oswald — Barbarous cruelty of Penda — His desolating march 
through Northumbria — Attacks the castle of Bamborough — His march 
into Wessex — His invasion of East Anglia — Sigebert, the monk-king, 
leads on the East Anglians — Is defeated by Penda, who ravages East 
Anglia — The pagan king again enters Northumbria — Oswy offers all his 
treasures to purchase peace — Is treated with contempt by Penda — Oswy 
prepares for battle — Penda's forces driven into the river — Death of the 
pagan king — Great changes effected by his death — Courage of Saxburga, 
the widowed queen of Wessex — Perilous state of the Saxon Octarchy 

p. 119 
CHAPTER XV. 

DECLINE OF THE SAXON OCTARCHY. 

Alfred, the learned king of Northumbria — His patronage of the celebrated 
scholar Aldhelm — Ceowulf, the patron of Bede — Mollo, brother of the 
king of Wessex, burnt alive in Kent — King Ina and his celebrated laws — 
Strange device of Ina's queen to induce him to resign his crown, and make 
a pilgrimage to Borne — Mysterious death of Ostrida, queen of the Mercians 
— Her husband, Ethelred, abandons his crown and becomes a monk after 
her violent death — Ethelbald ascends the throne of Mercia — Adventures 
of his early life — His residence with Guthlac, the hermit, in the island of 
Croyland — First founder of the monastery of Croyland — Ethelbald joins 
Cuthred, king of Wessex, and obtains a victory over the Welsh — Proclaims 
war against Cuthred — Description of the battle, and defeat of Ethelbald — 



CONTENTS. IX 

Independence of the kingdom of Wessex — Abdication of Sigebyhrt, king of 
Wessex — His death in the forest of Andredswold — Kapid accession and 
dethronement of the kings of Northumbria — Summary of their brief reigns. 

p. 129 
CHAPTER XVI. 

OFFA, SUKNAMED THE TERRIBLE. 

Offa ascends the throne of Mercia — Drida's introduction and marriage with 
the Mercian king — Character of queen Drida and her daughter Edburga — 
Offa's invasion of Northumbria — He marches into Kent — Is -victorious 

— Defeats the king of Wessex — His victory over the Welsh — Descrip- 
tion of Offa's dyke — Offa's friendly correspondence with Charlemagne — 
Adventures of Egbert — Murder of Cynewulf, at Merton, in Surrey — 
Brihtric obtains the crown of Wessex, and marries the daughter of Offa — 
Ethelbert, king of East Artglia, visits the Mercian court — Queen Drida 
plots his destruction — Description of a Saxon feast — Dreadful death of 
Ethelbert — Offa's daughter, Alfleda, seeks shelter in the monastery of Croy- 
land — Murder of Queen Drida — Edburga poisons her husband, Brihtric, 
king of Wessex — She flies to France — Her reception at the court of 
Charlemagne — She dies a beggar in the streets of Pavia ... p. 139 

CHAPTER XVII. 

EGBERT, KING OF ALL THE SAXONS. 

Character of Egbert — His watchful policy — Death of Kenwulf, and decline 
of the kingdom of Mercia — Egbert annexes the kingdom of Kent to Wessex 

— Compels Wiglaf, king of Mercia, to pay him tribute — He conquers the 
kingdom of Northumbria, and subjects the whole of the Saxon kingdoms to 
his sway — Northumbria invaded by the Danes — They sack the abbey of 
Lindisfarne, and slay the monks — The Danes again land in Dorsetshire — 
Egbert presides over a council in London, to devise measures to prevent the 
ravages of the Danes — The remnant of the ancient Britons who have been 
driven into Wales, form a league with the Danes, and are defeated — Death 

. of Egbert p. 145 

CHAPTER XVIH. 

THE ANCIENT SEA-KINGS. 

Origin of the Danish invaders — Habits of the early Vikings — Their warlike 
education — Picturesque description of their wild life — Their hatred of the 
Saxons — Description of their ships and warlike weapons — Arrangement 
of their plans to plunder — Their vows on the golden bracelet — Power of 
their leader only acknowledged in battle — Their rude festivities . p. 150 



X CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

FIEST SETTLEMENT OF THE DANES IN NOETHCMBEIA. 

Ethelwulph, king of Kent — His unfitness to govern — The brave bishop of 
Sherbourne — The two characters contrasted — Boldness of the Danes — 
They occupy the Isle of Thanet — Battle of the field of Oaks — Character 
of Osberga, mother of Alfred the Great — Ethelwulph visits Borne in com- 
pany with his son Alfred — The king of Kent marries Judith, daughter of 
Charles of France — His presents to the Pope — Beturns to England with 
his youthful wife — Bebellion of his son Ethelbald — Death of Ethelwulph 
— Ethelbald marries his stepmother Judith — She elopes from a monastery 
with Baldwin, the grand forester — Death of Ethelbald — Brief reign of 
Ethelbert— Alfred begins to distinguish himself — The celebrated sea-king, 
Bagnar Lodbrog — His bravery — Builds a large ship — Is wrecked on the 
coast of isorthumbria — Made prisoner by Ella, and dies in a dungeon — 
His celebrated death-song — The sons of Bagnar Lodbrog prepare to re- 
venge their father's death — England invaded by their mighty fleet — Their 
march towards Northumbria — Bavage York — Horrible death of Ella, king 
of Northumbria — The Danes occupy the kingdoms of the Deiri and Berni- 
cia — Nottingham taken by the Danes — Alfred accompanies his brother 
Ethelred, and the king of Mercia, in their attack upon the Danes — They 
enter into a treaty with the invaders — Alfred's marriage and attainments at 
this period p. 159 

CHAPTER XX. 

EAT AGES OF THE DANES, AND DEATH OF ETHELEED. 

Bavages of the Danes in Lincolnshire — Destruction of the monastery of Bard- 
ney — Gallant resistance of the Mercians — Battle near Croyland Abbey — 
Destruction of Croyland Abbey, and murder of the monks — Sidroc, one of 
the sea-kings, saves a boy from the massacre — The abbey of Peterborough 
destroyed by the Danes — Description of the country through which the in- 
vaders passed — Their march into East Anglia — The Danes enter Wessex 
— Battle of Ash-tree hill, and victory of the Saxons — Death of Ethelred 

p. 169 
CHAPTER XXI. 

ACCESSION AND ABDICATION OF ALFEED THE GEEAT. 

Miserable state of England when Alfred ascended the throne of Wessex — He 
is disheartened by the rapid arrival of the Danes — Enters into a treaty 
with them, and they abandon Essex — The Danes occupy London — Burr- 
hed, king of Mercia, retires to Borne — The Danes now masters of all 



CONTENTS. XI 

England, excepting Wessex — Alfred destroys their ships — Again enters 
into treaty with them — He encounters them at sea — Treaty at Exeter 
— His strange conduct at Chippenham — Vindication of the character of 
Alfred — His conduct during retirement — Alfred the Great in the cowherd's 
hut — Discovery of his retreat — His skirmishes with the Danes — Odin, 
the earl of Devonshire, captures the magical banner of Hubba, the sea-king 
— Alfred and his followers fortify their island retreat — Poverty of the great 
Saxon king p. 179 

CHAPTER XXII. 

ALFRED THE GREAT. 

Alfred in disguise visits the Danish camp near Westbury in Wiltshire — His 
interview with Godrun, the sea-king — Alfred musters the Saxon forces at 
Selwood forest — The arrival of his followers described — His preparation 
for battle — Description of the combat — Defeat of the Danes — Alfred be- 
sieges the Danish encampment — Surrender of Godrun — Policy and gene- 
rosity of Alfred the Great — Peaceful appearance of England — Landing of 
Hastings, the famous sea-king — Alfred increases his navy — Character of 
Hastings, the sea-king, the most skilful of all the Danish invaders — Alfred 
marches his army between the Danish forces — His masterly generalship — 
Hastings offers to quit the kingdom — His treachery- — Is again conquered 
by Alfred — The Danes of East Anglia and Northumbria rise up against 
Alfred — The wife and children of Hastings are taken prisoners by Alfred, 
and discharged with presents — After many struggles the Danes are at last 
defeated— Hastings quits England— Death of Alfred the Great . p. 192 

CHAPTER XXIH. 

CHARACTER OF ALFRED THE GREAT. 

His boyhood — Early love of poetry — Self-cultivation — Wisdom displayed 
in his conduct with the Danes — Difficulties under which he pursued his 
labour — His patronage of literary men — Method of study — Summary of 
his works — He reforms the Saxon nobles — Divides his time — Various 
purposes to which he appropriates his revenue — His invention for mark- 
ing the hours — Cultivates an acquaintance with foreign countries — His 
severity in the administration of justice — Establishment of a rigid system 
of police — His laws — Intellectual character of Alfred the Great . p. 199 

CHAPTER XXIY. 

EDWARD THE ELDER. 

Ethelwold lays claim to the throne of Wessex — Is backed by the Danes, and 
crowned at York — Battle of Axeholme and defeat of Ethelwold— Edward 



Xll CONTENTS. 

ravages Nortliumbria — The Danes attack Mereia — They enter the Severn 

— Battle of Wodensfield, and defeat of the Danes — Edward strengthens 
his frontier with fortresses — Their situation described — Bravery of his 
sister Ethelfleda — The Danes enter North Wales — Edward again vic- 
torious — Submission of the Welsh princes and the Danes of Northumbria 

— Death of Edward the Elder p. 202 

CHAPTEK XXV. 

THE REIGN OF ATHELSTAN. 

Athelstan, the favourite grandchild of Alfred the Great — While but a boy his 
grandfather invests him with the honours of knighthood — He is educated 
by Alfred's daughter, Ethelfleda — Athelstan's sister married Sigtryg, a 
descendant of the famous sea-kings — The Dane repudiates his wife, and re- 
nounces his new religion — Athelstan invades his dominions — Death of 
Sigtryg, and flight of his sons — Preparation for the invasion of England — 
The force arrayed against Athelstan — Measures adopted by the Saxon 
king — Preparations for battle — Picturesque description of the battle of 
Brunansburg — Anglo-Saxon song on Athelstan's victory — High position 
attained by Athelstan — Otho the Great marries Athelstan's sister — The 
Saxon monarch forms an alliance with the emperor of Germany and the 
king of Norway — Harold of Norway suppresses piracy — Sends his son 
Haco to be educated at the Saxon court — Presents a beautiful ship to 
Athelstan — Death of Harold, king of Norway — List of the kings who 
were established on their thrones by Athelstan — His presents to the 
monasteries — His charity and laws for the relief of the poor — Cruelty to 
his brother Edwin — Death of Athelstan p. 212 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE REIGNS OF EDMUND AND EDRED. 

Accession of Edmund the Elder — Anlaf, the Dane, invades Mereia, and de- 
feats the Saxons — Edmund treats with Anlaf, and divides England with 
the Danes — Perilous state of the Saxon succession prevented by the death 
of Anlaf — Change in Edmund's character — His brilliant victories — 
Cruelty to the British princes — Edmund assassinated while celebrating the 
feast of St. Axigustiu, by Leof, the robber — Mystery that surrounds the 
murder of Edmund the Elder — Edred ascends the Saxon throne — Eric, the 
sea-king — His daring deeds on the ocean — Description of bis wild life — 
Edred invades Northumbria — Eric attacks his own subjects — Edred's 
victory over the Danes — Scandinavian war-song on the death of Eric — 
Death of Edred p. 218 



CONTENTS. X11I 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

EDWIN AND ELGIVA. 

Edwin's marriage with Elgiva — Odo, the Danish archbishop — St. Dunstan 
— His early life — He becomes delirious — His intellectual attainments — 
His persecution — He falls in love — Is dissuaded from marriage by the 
bishop, iElfheag — He is again attacked with sickness — Recovers, and 
becomes a monk — Lives in a narrow cell — Absurdity of his rumoured 
interviews with the Evil One — His high connexions — Analysis of his 
character — Dunstan's rude attack upon King Edwin, after the banquet — 
Dunstan again driven from court — Remarks on his conduct — Elgiva is 
cruelly tortured, and savagely murdered by the command of Odo, the arch- 
bishop of Canterbury — Dunstan recalled from his banishment — Supposed 
murder of Edwin '. p. 227 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE REIGN OF EDGAR. 

Power of Dunstan — He is made Archbishop of Canterbury — He appoints his 
own friends counsellors to the young king — His encouragement of the 
fine arts — Enforces the Benedictine rules upon the monks — Speech of 
Edgar in favour of Dunstan's reformation in tbe monasteries — Romantic 
adventure of Elfrida, daughter of the Earl of Devonshire — Death of Athel- 
wold — Personal courage of Edgar — His love of pomp, and generosity — 
His encouragement of foreign artificers — His tribute of wolves' heads — 
England infested with wolves long after the commencement of the Saxon 
period — Many of the Saxon names derived from the wolf — Death of 
Edgar — Elfric's sketch of his character — Changes wrought by Edgar 

p. 233 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

EDWARD THE MARTYR. 

Dunstan still triumphant — Is opposed by the dowager-queen Elfrida — 
Her attempts to place her son, Ethelred, upon the throne, frustrated by 
Dunstan — Contest between the monks and the secular clergy — The Bene- 
dictine monks driven out of Mercia— The Synod of Winchester — Dun- 
stan's pretended miracle doubted — The council of Calne — William of 
Malmesbury's description of the assembly — Dunstan's threat — Falling in 
of that portion of the floor on which Dunstan's opponents stood — Reasons 
for supposing that the floor was undermined by the command of Dunstan — 



XIV CONTENTS. 

Death of his enemies, and trinmph of the archbishop — Edward's visit to 
Corfe Castle — He is stabbed in the back while pledging his stepmother, 
Elfrida, at the gate— His dreadful death— Character of Elfrida . p. 238 

CHAPTER XXX. 

ETHELRED THE UNREADY. 

Elfrida still opposed by Dunstan — Etbelred crowned by the archbishop of Can- 
terbury — His malediction at the coronation — Dislike of the Saxons to 
Ethelred — Dunstan's power on the wane — Insurrection of tbe Danes — 
The Danish pirates again ravage England — Courageous reply of the Saxon 
governor of Essex — Single combat between tbe Saxon governor, and one 
of the sea-kings — Cowardly conduct of Ethelred — He pays tribute, and 
makes peace with tbe Danes — Alfric the Mercian governor, turns traitor, 
and joins the Danes with his Saxon ships — The Saxon army again com- 
manded by the Danes, and defeated — Olaf, the Norwegian, and Swein, king 
of Denmark, invade and take formal possession of England — Etbelred 
again exbausts his exchequer, to purchase peace — Swein's second invasion 
of England — Cruel massacre of the Danes by tbe Saxons — Murder of 
Gunhilda, the sister of Swein, king of Denmark — Swein prepares to 
revenge the death of his countrymen — Description of his soldiers — 
Splendour of his ships — His magical banner described — His landing in 
England — Alfric again betrays the Saxons — Destruction of Norwich — 
Ethelred once more purchases peace of the Danes — ^Elfeg, archbishop of 
Canterbury, made prisoner by the sea-kings — He refuses to pay a ransom — 
Is summoned to appear before the sea-kings while they are feasting, and 
beaten to death by tbe bones of the oxen the pirates had feasted upon — 
Ethelred lays an oppressive tax upon the land — He raises a large fleet — 
Is again betrayed by his commanders — Sixteen counties are given up to 
the Danes — Etbelred deserted by his subjects — Escapes to tbe Isle of 
Wight, and from thence to Normandy — Swein, king of Denmark, becomes 
the monarch of England — Death of Swein — His son Canute claims the 
crown — Is opposed by Edmund Ironside — Canute's cruelty to the Saxon 
hostages — Miserable state of England at this period, as described by a 
Saxon bishop p. 249 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

EDMUND, SURNAMED IRONSIDE. 

Courageous character of Edmund Ironside — His gallant defence of London — 
His prowess at the battle of Scearston — Obstinacy of the combat which is 
only terminated by the approach of night — Renewal of the battle in the 
morning — Narrow escape of Canute, the Dane, from the two-handed sword 



CONTENTS. XV 

of Edmund Ironside — Conduct of the traitor Edric — Ketreat of the 
Danes — Battles fought by Edmund tbe Saxon — Ulfr, a Danish chief, lost 
in a wood — Meets with Godwin the cowherd, and is conducted to the 
Danish camp — Treaty between Canute the Dane and Edmund Ironside — 
The kingdom divided between the Danes and Saxons — Suspicious circum- 
stances attending the death of Edmund — Despondency of the Saxons 

p. 254 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

CANUTE THE DANE. 

Coronation of Canute the Dane — His treaty with the Saxon nobles — He 
banishes the relations of Ethelred, and the children of Edmund — Fate of 
Edmund's children — Canute's marriage with Emma, the dowager-queen of 
the Saxons — Death of the traitor, Edric — Canute visits Denmark — 
Death of Ulfr, the patron of Godwin the cowherd — Canute invades Nor- 
way — Habits of the Norwegian pirates — Canute erects a monument to 
Mlfeg, the murdered archbishop of Canterbury — Carries off the dead body 
of the bishop from London — Night scene on the Thames — Kills one of 
his soldiers — His penance — Establishes the tax of Peter's-pence — Pic- 
turesque description of Canute rebuking his courtiers — His theatrical dis- 
play, and vanity — His pilgrimage to Rome — Canute's letter — His death 

p. 2Cr4: 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

SEIGNS OF HAROLD HAKEFOOT AND HARDICANUTE. 

Sketch of Canute's reputed sons — The succession disputed — Eise of earl 
Godwin — Refusal of the archbishop to crown Harold Harefoot — Harold 
crowns himself, and bids defiance to the church — Conduct of Emma of 
Normandy — Her letter to her son Alfred — He lands in England, with a 
train of Norman followers — His reception by earl Godwin — Massacre of 
the Normans at Guildford — Death of Alfred, the son of Ethelred — Emma 
banished from England — Her residence at Bruges — Hardicanute prepares 
to invade England — Death of Harold Harefoot — Accession of Hardi- 
canute — Disinters the body of Harold — Summons earl Godwin to 
answer for the death of Alfred — Godwin's defence — Penalty paid by earl 
Godwin — Character of Hardicanute — His Huscarls — The inhabitants of 
Worcester refuse to pay the tax, called Dane-geld — They abandon the city — 
Reckless conduct of Hardicanute — He invites Edward, the son of Ethelred, 
to England — Hardicanute, the last of the sea-kings, dies drunk at a mar- 
riage-feast in Lambeth p. 272 



XVI CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

ACCESSION OF EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 

Edward established on the throne of England by the power of earl Godwin — 
Edward marries Editha, the earl's daughter — Description of the Lady 
Editha, by Ingulphus — Godwin's jealousy of the Norman favourites, who 
surrounded Edward — Friendless state of Edward the Confessor, wben he 
arrived in England — Changes produced by the arrival of the Normans in 
the Saxon court — Independence of Godwin and bis sons — Emma 
banished by her son Edward — Threatened invasion of Magnus, king of 
Norway — The Saxons and Danes alike jealous of the Norman favourites 
— Eustace, count of Boulogne, visits king Edward — His conduct at Dover 

— Several of the count's followers are slain — Earl Godwin refuses to 

punish the inhabitants of Dover for their attack on Count Eustace The 

Normans endeavour to overthrow Earl Godwin — He refuses to attend the 
council at Gloucester — Earl Godwin and his sons have recourse to arms — 
The Danes refuse to attack the Saxons in king Edwin's quarrel — Banish- 
ment of the Saxon earl and his sons — Sufferings of queen Editba p. 282 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 

Description of the English court, after the banishment of Earl Godwin — Wil- 
liam, the Norman, surnamed the Bastard, and the Conqueror, arrives in 
England — William's parentage — Sketch of his father, surnamed Robert 
the Devil — His pilgrimage to Borne, and death — Bold and daring cha- 
racter of William the Norman — His cruel couduct to the prisoners of Alen- 
con — His delight on visiting England — Circumstances in his favour for 
obtaining the crown of England — Return, and triumph of Earl Godwin — 
England again on the verge of a civil war — Departure of tbe Norman 
favourites — Sketch of the English court after the return of the Saxon earl 

— Death of Godwin — Siward the Strong — Rise of Harold, the son of earl 
Godwin — Imbecility of Edward the Confessor — Harold's victory over the 
Welsh — Conduct of Tostig, the brother of Harold — Coldness of the 
church of Rome towards England — struggle of Benedict and Stigand for 
the pallium — Mediation of Lanfranc — William the Norman becomes a 
favourite with the Roman pontiff — Suspicious death of Edward, the son of 
Edmund Ironside — Edward the Confessor suspects the designs of William 
the Conqueror — Harold, the son of Godwin, obtains permission to visit 
Normandy p. 296 



CONTENTS. XVil 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

eakl Harold's visit to normandy. 

Harold shipwrecked upon the coast of France — Is made captive, and carried 
to the fortress of Beaurain — Is released by the intervention of William of 
Normandy — Harold's interview with Duke William at Rouen — Affected 
kindness of the Norman duke — William cautiously unfolds his designs on 
the crown of England — His proposition to Harold — Offers Harold his 
daughter, Adeliza, in marriage — Duke William's stratagem — Harold's 
oath on the relics of the saints — Description of William the Norman's 
courtship — Character of Matilda of Flanders — Harold's return to England 
— The English people alarrned by signs and omens — Appearance of a 
comet in England — Description of the death of Edward the Confessor. 

p. 304 
CHAPTER XXXVII. 

ACCESSION OF HAROLD, THE SON OF GODWIN. 

Harold elected king of England by the Saxon witenagemot — Becomes a great 
favourite with his subjects — Bestores the Saxon customs — Conduct of 
William the Norman on hearing that Harold had ascended the throne of 
England — Tostig, Harold's brother, forms a league with Harold Hardrada, 
the last of the sea-kings — Character of Harold Hardrada — His adventures 
in the east — He prepares to land in England — Tostig awaits his arrival 
in Northumbria — The duke of Normandy's message to Harold king of the 
Saxons — Harold's answer — He marries the sister of Morkar of Northum- 
bria — Duke William makes preparations for the invasion of England — 
Arrival of Harold Hardrada with his Norwegian fleet — Superstitious feeling 
of the Norwegian soldiers — He joins Tostig, the son of Godwin — They 
burn Scarborough, and enter the Humber — Harold, by a rapid march, 
reaches the north — He prevents the surrender of York — Preparation for 
the battle — Harold surprises the enemy — Description of the combat — 
Harold offers peace to his brother — The offer rejected — Description of 
the battle — Deaths of Harold Hardrada and Tostig — Harold's victory. 

p. 314 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

ENGLAND INVADED BY THE NORMANS. 

Preparations in Normandy for the invasion of England — Description of duke 
William's soldiers — He obtains the sanction of the pope to seize the 
crown of England, and receives a consecrated banner from Borne — Meeting 

c 



XV111 CONTENTS. 

of the barons and citizens of Normandy — Policy of William Fitz-Osbern 

— Measures adopted by the Norman duke — His promises to all who em- 
barked in the expedition — Vows of the Norman knights — Protest of 
Conau, king of Brittany — Death of Conan — The Norman fleet arrives at 
Dive — Conduct of duke William while wind-bound in the roadsteads of 
St. Valery — Consternation amongst his troops — Method pursued by the 
Norman duke to appease the murmurs of his soldiers — The Norman fleet 
crosses the Channel, and arrives at Pevensey-bay — Fall of the astrologer 
— Lauding of the Norman soldiers — William's stumbling considered an 
ill omen — He marches towards Hastings — Alarm of the inhabitants along 
the coast — Tidings carried to Harold of the landing of the Normans. 

p. 325 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

BATTLE OF HASTINGS. 

Harold, king of the Saxons, marches from York — Despatches a fleet to inter- 
cept the flight of the Normans — Disaffection amongst his troops — He 
arrives in London — His hasty departure from the metropolis — Cause of 
Harold's disasters — Description of the Norman and Saxon encampments 
— William's message to Harold — Occupation of the rival armies the night 
before the battle — Gurth advises Harold to quit the field — Morning of 
the battle — The Saxon and Norman leaders — William the Norman's 
address to his soldiers — Inferiority of the Saxons in numbers — -Strong 
position taken up by Harold — Commencement of the combat — Courage 
of the Saxons — The Normans driven back from the English intrenchments 

— Skill of the Norman archers — Cavalry of the invaders driven into a 
deep ravine — The battle hitherto in favour of the Saxons — Rumour that 
William the Norman was slain — The effect of his sudden appearance 
amongst his retreating forces — Unflinching valour of the Saxons — Stra- 
tagem adopted by the Norman duke — Its consequence — William again 
attempts a feigned flight, and the Saxons quit their intrenchments — 
Dreadful slaughter of the English — Death of Harold, the last Saxon king 

— Capture of the Saxon banner — Victory of the Normans — Retreat and 
pursuit of the remnant of the Saxon army — The field of Hastings the 
morning after the battle — The dead body of Harold discovered by Edith 
the Swan-necked p. 338 

THE ANGLO-SAXONS. 

Their religion — Government and laws — Literature of Anglo-Saxons — Archi- 
tecture, Arts, &c. — Costume, Manners, Customs, and Everyday life, p. 357 



THE 



HISTORY OF ENGLAND 



CHAPTEE I. 

THE DAWN OF HISTORY. 

" This fortress, built by Nature for herself 
Against infection and the hand of war, — 
This earth of majesty — this little world — 
This precious stone set in the silver sea — 
England, bound in with the triumphant sea, 
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious surge 
Of watery Neptune." Shakspere. 

Almost every historian has set out by regretting how little is 
Known of the early inhabitants of Great Britain — a fact which 
only the lovers of hoar antiquity deplore, since from all we can 
with certainty glean from the pages of contemporary history, we 
should find but little more to interest us than if we possessed 
written records of the remotest origin of the Red Indians; for both 
would alike but be the history of an unlettered and uncivilized 
race. The same dim obscurity, with scarcely an exception, 
hangs over the primeval inhabitants of every other country; and 
if we lift up the mysterious curtain which has so long fallen over 
and concealed the past, we only obtain glimpses of obscure hiero- 
glyphics; and from the unmeaning fables of monsters and giants, 
to which the rudest nations trace their origin, we but glance 
backward and backward, to find that civilized Eome and classic 
Greece can produce no better authorities than old undated tra- 
ditions, teeming with fabulous accounts of heathen gods and god- 

B 



2 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

desses. "What we can see of the remote past through the half-dark- 
ened twilight of time, is as of a great and unknown sea, on which 
some solitary ship is afloat, whose course we cannot trace through 
the shadows which everywhere deepen around her, nor tell 
what strange land lies beyond the dim horizon to which she seems 
bound. The dark night of mystery has for ever settled down upon 
the early history of our island, and the first dawning which throws 
the shadow of man upon the scene, reveals a rude hunter, clad 
in the skins of beasts of the chase, whose path is disputed by 
the maned and shaggy bison, whose rude hut in the forest fast- 
nesses is pitched beside the lair of the hungry wolf, and whose first 
conquest is the extirpation of these formidable animals. And 
so, in as few words, might the early history of many another 
country be written. The shores of Time are thickly strown 
with the remains of extinct animals, which, when living, the eye 
of man never looked upon, as if from the deep sea of Eternity had 
heaved up one wave, which washed over and blotted out for ever 
all that was coeval with her silent and ancient reign, leaving a 
monument upon the confines of this old and obliterated world, 
for man in a far and future day to read, on which stands ever 
engraven the solemn sentence, "Hitherto shalt thou come, but 
no further!" — beyond this boundary all is Mine! Neither 
does this mystery end here, for around the monuments which 
were reared by the earliest inhabitants of Great Britain, there 
still reigns a deep darkness; we know not what hand piled to- 
gether the rude remains of Stonehenge; we have but few records 
of the manners, the customs, or the religion of the early Britons; 
here and there a colossal barrow heaves up above the dead ; we look 
within, and find a few bones, a few rude weapons, either used in 
the war or the chase, and these are all; and we linger in wonder- 
ment around such remains. Who those ancient voyagers were 
that first called England the Country of Sea Cliffs we know not; 
and while we sit and brood over the rude fragments of the 
Welsh Triads, we become so entangled in doubt and mystery as 
to look upon the son of Aedd the Great, and the Island of Honey 
to which he sailed, and wherein he found no man alive, as the 
pleasing dream of some old and forgotten poet; and we set out 
again, with no more success, to discover who were the earliest in- 
habitants of England, leaving the ancient Cymri and the country 
of Summer behind, and the tall, silent cliffs, to stand as they had 
done for ages, looking over a wide and mastless sea. We then 



THE DAWN OF HISTORY. 6 

look among the ancient names of the headlands, and harbours, 
and mountains, and hills, and valleys, and endeavour to trace a 
resemblance to the language spoken by some neighbouring 
nation, and we only glean up a few scattered words, which leave 
us still in doubt, like a confusion of echoes, one breaking in 
upon the other, a mingiement of Celtic, Pictish, Gaulish, and 
Saxon sounds, where if for a moment but one is audible and 
distinct, it is drowned by other successive clamours which come 
panting up with a still louder claim, and in very despair we 
are compelled to step back again into the old primeval silence. 
There we find Geology looking daringly into the formation of 
the early world, and boldly proclaiming, that there was a 
period of time when our island heaved up bare and deso- 
late amid the silence of the surrounding ocean, — when on 
its ancient promontories and grey granite peaks not a green 
branch waved, nor a blade of grass grew, and no living thing, 
saving the tiny corals, as they piled dome upon dome above the 
naked foundations of this early world, stirred in the " deep pro- 
found" which reigned over those sleeping seas. Onward they go, 
boldly discoursing of undated centuries that have passed away, 
during which they tell us the ocean swarmed with huge, monstrous 
forms; and that all those countless ages have left to record their 
flight are but the remains of a few extinct reptiles and fishes, 
whose living likenesses never again appeared in the world. To 
another measureless period are we fearlessly carried — so long as 
to be only numbered in the account of Time which Eternity 
keeps — and other forms, we are told, moved over the floors of 
dried-up oceans — vast animals which no human eye ever looked 
upon alive; these, they say, also were swept away, and their 
ponderous remains had long mingled with and enriched the 
earth; but man had not as yet appeared; nor in any corner of 
the whole wide world do they discover in the deep -buried 
layers of the earth a single vestige of the remains of the 
human race. What historian, then, while such proofs as these 
are before his eyes, will not hesitate ere he ventures to assert 
who were the first inhabitants of any country, whence they 
came, or at what period that country was first peopled ? As 
well might he attempt a description of the scenery over which 
the mornings of the early world first broke, — of summit and 
peak which, they say, ages ago, have been hurled down, and 
ground and powdered into atoms. What matters it about the date 

b 2 



4 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

when such things once were, or at what time or place they first 
appeared? We can gaze upon the gigantic remains of the mas- 
todon or mammoth, or on the grey, silent ruins of Stonehenge, 
but at what period of time the one roamed over our island, 
or in what year the other was first reared, will for ever remain a 
mystery. The earth beneath our feet is lettered over with proofs 
that there was an age in which these extinct monsters existed, 
and that period is unmarked by any proof of the existence of 
man in our island. And during those not improbable periods 
when oceans were emptied and dried up, amid the heaving up 
and burying of rocks and mountains, — when volcanoes red- 
dened the dark midnights of the world, when " the earth 
was without form, and void," — what mind can picture aught 
but His Spirit "moving upon the face of the waters," — 
what mortal eye could have looked upon the rocking and 
reeling of those chaotic ruins when their rude forms first 
heaved up into the light ? Is not such a world stamped with 
the imprint of the Omnipotent, — from when He first paved its 
foundation with enduring granite, and roofed it over with the 
soft blue of heaven, and lighted it by day with the glorious 
sun, and hung out the moon and stars to gladden the night; until 
at last He fashioned a world beautiful enough for the abode of 
His "own image" to dwell in, before He created man? And 
what matters it whether or not we believe in all these mighty 
epochs ? Surely it is enough for us to discover throughout every 
change of time the loving-kindness of God for mankind; we 
see how fitting this globe was at last for his dwelling-place; 
that before the Great Architect had put this last finish to His 
mighty work, instead of leaving us to starve amid the Silurian 
sterility, He prepared the world for man, and in place of the 
naked granite, spread out a rich carpet of verdure for him to 
tread upon, then flung upon it a profusion of the sweetest flowers. 
Let us not, then, daringly stand by, and say thus it was fashioned, 
and so it was formed, but by our silence acknowledge that it 
never yet entered into the heart of man to conceive how the 
Almighty Creator laid the foundation of the world. 

To His great works must we ever come with reverential 
knee, and before them lowly bow; for the grey rocks, and 
the high mountain summits, and the wide-spreading plains, 
and the ever-sounding seas, are stamped with the image 
of Eternity, — a mighty shadow ever hangs over them. The 
grey and weather-beaten headlands still look over the sea, and 



THE DAWN OF HISTORY. 

the solemn mountains still slumber under their old midnight 
shadows; but what human ear first heard the murmur of the 
waves upon the beaten beach, or what human foot first climbed 
up those high-piled summits, we can never know. 

What would it benefit us could we discover the date when our 
island was buried beneath the ocean; when what was dry land 
in one age became the sea in another; when volcanoes glowed 
angrily under the dark skies of the early world, and huge 
extinct monsters bellowed, and roamed, and swam, through the 
old forests and the ancient rivers which have perhaps ages ago 
been swept away? What could we find more to interest us were 
we in possession of the names, the ages, and the numbers, of the 
first adventurers who were perchance driven by some storm upon 
our sea-beaten coast, than what is said in the ancient Triad before 
alluded to? " there were no more men alive, nor anything but 
bears, wolves, beavers, and the oxen with the high prominence," 
when Aedd landed upon the shores of England. What few 
traces we have of the religious rites of the early inhabitants of 
Great Britain vary but little from such as have been brought to 
light by modern travellers who have landed in newly-discovered 
countries in our own age. They worshipped idols, and had no 
knowledge of the true God, and saving in those lands where the 
early patriarchs dwelt, the same Egyptian darkness settled over 
the whole world. The ancient Greeks and Romans considered 
all nations, excepting themselves, barbarians ; nor do the Chinese 
of the present day look upon us in a more favourable light; 
while we, acknowledging their antiquity as a nation, scarcely 
number them amongst such as are civilized. We have yet to 
learn by what hands the round towers of Ireland were reared, 
and by what race the few ancient British monuments that still 
remain were piled together, ere we can enter those mysterious 
gates which open upon the History of the Past. We find 
the footprint of man there, but who he was, or whence he 
came, we know not; he lived and died, and whether or not 
posterity would ever think of the rude monuments he left 
behind concerned him not; whether the stones would mark 
the temple in which he worshipped, or tumble down and cover 
his grave, concerned not his creed; with his hatchet of stone, 
and spear-head of flint, he hewed his way from the cradle to 
the tomb, and under the steep barrow he knew that he should 
sleep his last sleep, and, with his arms folded upon his breast, 
he left " the dead past to bury its dead." He lived not for us. 



CHAPTER II. 

THE ANCIENT BRITONS. 

" Where the nianed bison and the wolf did roam, 
The ancient Briton reared his wattled home, 
Paddled his coracle across the mere, 
In the dim forest chased the antlered deer ; 
Pastured his herds within the open glade, 
Played with his ' young barbarians' in the shade ; 
And when the new moon o'er the high hills broke, 
Worshipped his heathen gods beneath the sacred oak." 

The Old Forest. 

Although the origin of the early inhabitants of Great Britain 
is still open to many doubts, we have good evidence that at a 
very remote period the descendants of the ancient Cimmerii, 
or Cymry, dwelt within our island, and that from the same 
great family sprang the Celtic tribe; a portion of which at 
that early period inhabited the opposite coast of France. At 
what time the Cymry and Celts first peopled England we have 
not any written record, though there is no lack of proof that 
they were known to the early Phoenician voyagers many cen- 
turies before the Roman invasion, and that the ancient Greeks 
were acquainted with the British Islands by the name of the 
Cassiterides, or the Islands of Tin. Thus both the Greeks 
and Romans indirectly traded with the very race, whose ances- 
tors had shaken the imperial city with their arms, and rolled 
the tide of battle to those classic shores where "bald, blind 
Homer" sung. They were the undoubted offspring of the dark 
Cimmerii of antiquity, those dreaded indwellers of caves and 
forests, those brave barbarians whose formidable helmets were 
surmounted by the figures of gaping and hideous monsters ; 
who wore high nodding crests to make them look taller and 
more terrible in battle, considering death on the hard-fought 
field as the crowning triumph of all earthly glory. From this 
race sprang those ancient British tribes who presented so bold 
a front to Julius Caesar, when his Roman gallies first ploughed 
the waves that washed their storm-beaten shores. Beyond this 
contemporary history carries ns not; and the Welch traditions 
go no further back than to state that when the son of Aedd first 



THE ANCIENT BRITONS. 7 

sailed over the hazy ocean, the island was uninhabited, which 
we may suppose to mean that portion on which he and his 
followers landed, and where they saw no man alive, for we 
cannot think that it would long remain unpeopled, visible as it 
is on a clear day from the opposite coast of Gaul, and beyond 
which great nations had then for centuries nourished. What 
few records we possess of the ancient Britons, reveal a wild 
and hardy race ; yet not so much dissimilar to the social 
position of England in the present day, as may at a first glance 
appear. They had their chiefs and rulers who wore armour, 
and ornaments of gold and silver; and these held in subjec- 
tion the poorer races who lived upon the produce of the chase, 
the wild fruits and roots which the forest and the field pro- 
duced, and wore skins, and dwelt in caverns, which they hewed 
out of the old grey rocks. They were priest-ridden by the 
ancient druids, who cursed and excommunicated without the aid 
of either bell, book, or candle; burned and slaughtered all un- 
believers just as well as Mahomet himself, or the bigoted fana- 
tics, who in a later day did the same deeds under the mask 
of the Romish religion. For centuries after, mankind had not 
undergone so great a change as they at the first appear to have 
done; there was the same love of power, the same shedding of 
blood, and those who had not courage to take the field openly, 
and seize upon what they could boldly, burnt, and slew, and 
sacrificed their fellow-men under the plea that such offerings 
were acceptable to the gods. 

By the aid of the few hints which are scattered over the works 
of the Greek and Roman writers, the existence of a few 
remaining monuments, and the discoveries which have many 
a time been made through numberless excavations, we can 
just make out, in the hazy evening of the past, enough of 
the dim forms of the ancient Britons to see their mode of life, 
their habits in peace and war, as they move about in the twilight 
shadows which have settled down over two thousand years. 
That they were a tall, large-limbed, and muscular race, we 
have the authority of the Roman writers to prove; who, how- 
ever, add but little in praise of the symmetry of their figures, 
though they were near half a foot higher than their distant kin- 
dred the Gauls. They wore their hair long and thrown back 
from the forehead, which must have given them a wild look in 
the excitement of battle, when their long curling locks would 



8 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

heave and fall with every blow they struck; the upper lip was 
unshaven, and the long tufts drooped over the mouth, thus add- 
ing greatly to their grim and warlike appearance. Added to 
this, they cast aside their upper garments when they fought^ 
as the brave Highlanders were wont to do a century or two ago, 
and on their naked bodies were punctured all kinds of mon- 
sters, such as no human eye had ever beheld. Claudian mentions 
the " fading figures on the dying Pict ;" the dim deathly blue 
that they would fade into, as the life-blood of the rude warrior 
ebbed out, upon the field of battle. 

How different must have been the landscape which the fading 
rays of the evening sunset gilded in that rude and primitive age. 
Instead of the tall towers and walled cities, whose glittering win- 
dows now flash back the golden light, the sinking rays gilded a 
barrier of felled trees in the centre of the forest which surrounded 
the wattled and thatched huts of those ancient herdsmen, throwing 
its crimson rays upon the clear space behind, in which his herds 
and flocks were pastured for the night; while all around heaved 
up the grand and gloomy old forest, with its shadowy thickets, 
and dark dingles, and woody vallies untrodden by the foot of 
man. There was then the dreaded wolf to guard against, the 
unexpected rush of the wild boar, the growl of the grizzly bear, 
and the bellowing of the maned bison to startle him from his 
slumber. Nor less to be feared the midnight marauder from some 
neighbouring tribe, whom neither the dreaded fires of the 
heathen druids, nor the awful sentence which held accursed all 
who communicated with him after the doom was uttered, could 
keep from plunder, whenever an opportunity presented itself. 
The subterraneous chambers in which their corn was stored 
might be emptied before morning; the wicker basket which 
contained their salt (brought far over the distant sea by the 
Phoenicians or some adventurous voyager) might be carried 
away; and no trace of the robber could be found through the 
pathless forest, and the reedy morass by which he would escape, 
while he startled the badger with his tread, and drove the beaver 
into his ancient home; for beside the druids there were those 
who sowed no grain, who drank up the beverage their neigh- 
bours brewed from their own barley, and ate up the curds which 
they had made from the milk of their own herds. These were 
such as dug up the " pig -nuts, "still eaten by the children in the 
northern counties at the present day; who struck down the 



THE ANCIENT BRITONS. V 

deer, the boar, and the bison in the wild unenclosed forest — 
kindled a fire with the dried leaves and dead branches, then 
threw themselves down at the foot of the nearest oak, when 
their rude repast was over, and with their war-hatchet, or hunt- 
ing-spear, firmly grasped, even in sleep, awaited the first beam 
of morning, unless awoke before by the howl of the wolf, or the 
thundering of the boar through the thicket. They left the fish 
in their vast rivers untouched, as if they preferred only that food 
which could be won by danger; from the timid hare they turned 
away, to give chase to the antlered monarch of the forest; they 
let the wild goose float upon the lonely mere, and the plumed 
duck swim about the broad lake undisturbed. There was a 
wild independence in their forest life — they had but few wants, 
and where nature no longer supplied these from her own uncul- 
tivated stores, they looked abroad and harassed the more civil- 
ized and industrious tribes. 

Although there is but little doubt that the British chiefs, and 
those who dwelt on the sea-coast, and opened a trade with the 
Gaulish merchants, lived in a state of comparative luxury, when 
contrasted with the wilder tribes who inhabited the interior of the 
island, still there is something simple and primitive in all that 
we can collect of their domestic habits. Their seats consisted 
of three-legged stools, no doubt sawn crossways from the stem 
of the tree, and three holes made to hold the legs, like the seats 
which are called " crickets," that may be seen in the huts of the 
English peasantry in the present day. Their beds consisted of 
dried grass, leaves, or rushes spread upon the floor — their cover- 
ing, the dark blue cloak or sagum which they wore out of 
doors ; or the dried skins of the cattle they slew, either from 
their own herds or in the chase. They ate and drank from off 
wooden trenchers, and out of bowls rudely hollowed : they were 
not without a rough kind of red earthenware, badly baked, and 
roughly formed. They kept their provisions in baskets of 
wicker-work, and made their boats of the same material, over 
which they stretched skins to keep out the water. They kindled 
fires on the floors of their thatched huts, and appear to have 
been acquainted with the use of coal as fuel, though there is 
little doubt that they only dug up such as lay near the surface 
of the earth ; but it was from the great forests which half 
covered their island that they principally procured their fuel. 
They had also boats, not unlike the canoes still in use amongst 



10 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

the Indians, which were formed out of the hollow trunk 
of a tree ; and some of which have been found upwards of 
thirty feet in length ; and in these, no doubt, they ventured 
over to the opposite coast of France, and even Ireland, 
when the weather was calm. Diodorus says, that amongst 
the Celtic tribes there was a simplicity of manners very 
different to that craft and wickedness which mankind then 
exhibited — that they were satisfied with frugal sustenance, 
and avoided the luxuries of wealth. The boundaries of 
their pastures consisted of such primitive marks as upright 
stones, reminding us of the patriarchal age and the scrip- 
tural anathema of "cursed is he who removeth his neigh- 
bour's land-mark." Their costume was similar to that worn 
by their kindred the Gauls, consisting of loose lower gar- 
ments, a kind of waistcoat with wide sleeves, and over this a 
cloak, or sagum, made of cloth or skin ; and when of the 
former, dyed blue or black, for they were acquainted with 
the art of dyeing ; and some of them wore a cloth, chequered 
with various colours. The chiefs wore rings of gold, silver, or 
bronze, on their forefingers ; they had also ornaments, such as 
bracelets and armlets of the same metal, and a decoration called 
the torque, which was either a collar or a belt formed of gold, 
silver, or bronze, and which fastened behind by a strong hook. 
Several of these ornaments have been discovered, and amongst 
them, one of gold, which weighed twenty-five ounces. It seems 
to have been something like the mailed gorget of a later day, 
worn above the cuirass or coat of mail, to protect the neck and 
throat in battle ; their shoes appear to have been only a sole of 
wood or leather, fastened to the foot by thongs cut from off the 
raw hides of oxen they had slaughtered. The war weapons of 
the wilder tribes in the earlier times, were hatchets of stone, and 
arrows headed with flint, and long spears pointed with sharpened 
bone ; but long before the Eoman invasion, the more civilized 
were in possession of battle-axes, swords, spears, javelins, and 
other formidable instruments of war, made of a mixture of cop- 
per and tin. Many of these instruments have been discovered 
in the ancient barrows where they buried their dead; and 
were, no doubt, at first procured from the merchants with whom 
they traded — ignorant, perhaps, for a long period, that they 
were produced from the very material they were giving for 
them in exchange. In battle they also bore a circular shield, 
coated with the same metal; this they held in the hand by the 



THE ANCIENT BRITONS. 11 

centre bar that went across the hollow inner space from which 
the boss projected. 

But the war-chariots which they brought into battle were of all 
things the most dreaded by the Romans. From the axles pro- 
jected those sharp-hooked formidable scythes, which appalled 
even the bravest legions, and made such gaps in their well- 
trained ranks, as struck their boldest generals aghast. These 
were drawn by such horses as, by their fire and speed, won the 
admiration of the invaders; for fleet on foot as deer, and with their 
dark manes streaming out like banners, they rushed headlong, 
with thundering tramp, into the armed ranks of the enemy; the 
sharp scythes cutting down every obstacle they came in contact 
with. With fixed eyes the fearless warrior hurled his pointed 
javelins in every direction as he rushed thundering on — some- 
times making a thrust with his spear or sword, as he swept by 
with lightning-speed, or dragged with him for a few yards the 
affrighted foeman he had grasped while passing, and whose 
limbs those formidable weapons mangled at every turn until the 
dreaded Briton released his hold. Now stepping upon the pole, he 
aimed a blow at the opponent who attempted to check his speed 
— then he stopped his quick-footed coursers in a moment, as if 
a bolt from heaven had alighted, and struck them dead, while 
some warrior who was watching their onward course fell dead 
beneath so unexpected a blow ; and ere the sword of his com- 
panion was uplifted to revenge his death, the Briton and his 
chariot were far away, hewing a new path through the cen- 
tre of veteran ranks, which the stormy tide of battle had never 
before broken. The form of the tall warrior, leaning over his 
chariot with glaring eye and clenched teeth, would, by his 
valour and martial deportment, have done honoiir to the plains 
of Troy, and won an immortal line from Homer himself, had he 
but witnessed those deeds achieved by the British heroes in a 
later day. What fear of death had they before their eyes who 
believed that their souls passed at once into the body of some 
brave warrior, or that they but quitted the battle-field to be 
admitted into the abodes of the gods? They sprang from a 
race whose mothers and wives had many a time hemmed in 
the back of battle, and with their own hands struck down 
the first of their tribe who fled, — sparing neither father, 
husband, brother, nor son, if he once turned his back upon 
the enemy: a race whose huge war-drums had, centuries 
before, sounded in Greek and Roman combats. And from this 



12 



HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 



hardy stock, which drooped awhile beneath the pruning arms of 
civilized Rome, was the Gothic grandeur of the Saxon stem 
grafted, and when its antique roots had been manured by the 
bones of thousands of misbelieving Danes, and its exuberant 
shoots lopped by the swords of the Norman chivalry, there sprang 
up that mighty tree, the shadows of whose branches stretch far 
away over the pathless ocean, reaching to the uttermost ends of 
the earth. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE DRUIDS. 



You Druids now maintain 



Your barbarous rites, and sacrifice again ; 

You what hea-ven is, and gods alone can tell, 

Or else alone are ignorant : you dwell 

In vast and desert woods ; you teach no spirit, 

Pluto's pale kingdom can by death inherit : 

They in another world inform again, 

The space betwixt two lives is all the death." 

Lucax's Pharsalia, T. May's Translation, 1635. 

To Julius Csesar we are indebted for the clearest description 
of the religious rites and ceremonies of the Druids; and as he 
beheld them administered by these Priests to the ancient 
Britons, so they had no doubt existed for several centuries 
before the Roman invasion, and are therefore matters of his- 
tory, prior to that period. There was a wild poetry about 
their heathenish creed, something gloomy, and grand, and super- 
natural in the dim, dreamy old forests where their altars were 
raised: in the deep shadows which hung over their rude grey 
cromlechs, on which the sacred fire burned. We catch glimpses 
between the gnarled and twisted stems of those magnificent 
and aged oaks of the solemn-looking druid, in his white robe 
of office, his flowing beard blown for a moment aside, and 
breaking the dark green of the underwood with the lower 
portion of his sweeping drapery, while he stands like a grave 
enchanter, his deep sunk and terrible eyes fixed upon the blue 
smoke as it curls upward amid the foliage — fixed, yet only to 
appearance ; for let but a light and wandering expression 



THE DRUIDS. 13 

pass over one single countenance in that assembled group, and 
those deep grey piercing eyes would be seen glaring in anger 
upon the culprit, and whether it were youth or maiden they 
would be banished from the sacrifice, and all held accursed who 
dared to commune with them — a curse more terrible than that 
which knelled the doom of the excommunicated in a later 
day. There were none bold enough to extinguish the baleful 
fire which was kindled around the wicker idol, when its angry 
flames went crackling above the heads of the human victims who 
were offered up to appease their brutal gods. In the centre of 
their darksome forests were their rich treasures piled together, 
the plunder of war; the wealth wrested from some neighbouring 
tribe; rich ornaments brought by unknown voyagers from dis- 
tant countries in exchange for the tin which the island produced ; 
or trophies won by the British warriors who had fought in the 
ranks of the Gauls on the opposite shore — all piled without 
order together, and guarded only by the superstitious dread which 
they threw around everything they possessed; for there ever 
hung the fear of a dreadful death over the head of the plunderer 
who dared to touch the treasures which were allotted to the awful 
druids. They kept no written record of their innermost 
mysteries, but amid the drowsy rustling of the leaves and the 
melancholy murmuring of the waters which ever flowed around 
their wooded abodes, they taught the secrets of their cruel creed 
to those who for long years had aided in the administration of 
their horrible ceremonies, who without a blanched cheek or a 
quailing heart had grown grey beneath the blaze of human sacri- 
fices, and fired the wicker pile with an unshaken hand — these 
alone were the truly initiated. They left the younger disciples to 
mumble over matters of less import — written doctrines which 
taught how the soul passed into other bodies in never-ending 
succession; but they permitted them not to meddle in matters of 
life and death; and many came from afar to study a religion 
which armed the druids with more than sovereign power. All 
law was administered by the same dreaded priests ; no one dared 
to appeal from their awful decree; he who was once sentenced 
had but to bow his head and obey — rebellion was death, and a 
curse was thundered against all who ventured to approach him; 
from that moment he became an outcast amongst mankind. To 
impress the living with a dread of their power even after death, 
they hesitated not in their doctrines to proclaim, that they held 



14 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

control over departed and rebellious souls; and in the midnight 
winds that went wailing through the shadowy forests, they bade 
their believers listen to the cry of the disembodied spirits who 
were moaning for forgiveness, and were driven by every blast 
that blew against the opening arms of the giant oaks; for they 
gave substance to shadows, and pointed out forms in the dark- 
moving clouds to add to the terrors of their creed. They wor- 
shipped the sun and moon, and ever kept the sacred fire burn- 
ing upon some awful altar which had been reddened by the 
blood of sacrifice. They headed the solemn processions to 
springs and fountains, and muttered their incantations over the 
moving water, for, next to fire, it was the element they held in 
the highest veneration. But their grand temples — like Stone- 
henge — stood in the centre of light, in the midst of broad, open, 
and spacious plains, and there the great Beltian fire was kindled; 
there the distant tribes congregated together, and unknown gods 
were evoked, whose very names have perished, and whose 
existence could only be found in the wooded hill, the giant tree, 
or the murmuring spring or fountain, over which they were 
supposed to preside. There sat the arch-druid, in his white 
surplice, the shadow of the mighty pillars of rough-hewn stone 
chequering the stony rim of that vast circle — from his neck sus- 
pended the wonderful egg which his credulous believers said fell 
from twined serpents, that vanished hissing high in the air, 
after having in vain pursued the mounted horseman who caught 
it, then galloped off at full speed — that egg, cased in gold, which 
could by its magical virtues swim against the stream. He held 
the mysterious symbol of office, in his hands more potent than 
the sceptre swayed by the most powerful of monarchs that 
ever sat upon our island throne, as he sat with his brow fur- 
rowed by long thought, and ploughed deep by many a meditated 
plot, while his soul spurned the ignorant herd who were as- 
sembled around him, and he bit his haughty lip at the thought 
that he could devise no further humiliation than to make them 
kneel and lick the sand on which he stood. 

They held the mistletoe which grew on the oak sacred, 
and on the sixth day of the moon came in solemn procession to 
the tree on which it grew, and offered up sacrifice, and pre- 
pared a feast beneath its hallowed branches, adorning them- 
selves with its leaves, as if they could never sufficiently reverence 
the tree on which the mistletoe grew, although they named them- 



THE DRUIDS. 15 

selves druids after the oak. White bulls were dragged into the 
ceremony; their stiff necks bowed, and their broad foreheads 
bound to the stem of the tree, while their loud bellowings came 
in like a wild chorus to the rude anthem which was chaunted on 
the occasion: these were slaughtered, and the morning sacri- 
fice went streaming up among the green branches. The chief 
druid ascended the oak, treading haughtily upon the bended 
backs and broad shoulders of the blinded slaves, who struggled 
to become stepping-stones beneath his feet, and eagerly bowed 
their necks that he might trample upon them, while he gathered 
his white garment in his hand, and drew it aside, lest it should 
become sullied by touching their homely apparel. Below him 
stood his brother idolators, their spotless garments outspread 
ready to catch the falling sprigs of the mistletoe as they dropped 
beneath the stroke of the golden pruning -knife. Doubtless 
the solemn mockery ended by the assembled multitude carrying 
home with them a leaf or a berry each, of the all-healing plant, 
as it was called, while the druids lingered behind to consume 
the fatted sacrifice, and forge new fetters to bind down their 
ignorant followers to their heathenish creed. Still it is on record 
that they taught their disciples many things concerning the 
stars and their motion; that they pretended to some knowledge 
of distant countries, and the nature of the gods they worshipped. 
Gildas, one of the earliest of our British historians, seeming to 
write from what he saw, tells us that their idols almost sur- 
passed in number those of Egypt, and that monuments were then 
to be seen (in his day) of " hideous images, whose frigid, ever- 
lowering, and depraved countenances still frown upon us both 
within and outside the walls of deserted cities. We shall not," he 
says, " recite the names that once were heard on our mountains, 
that were repeated at our fountains, that were echoed on our hills, 
and were pronounced over our rivers, because the honours due 
to the Divinity alone were paid to them by a blinded people." 
That their religion was but a system of long -practised imposture 
admits not of a doubt; and as we have proof that they possessed 
considerable knowledge for that period, it is evident that they 
had recourse to these devices to delude and keep in subjection 
their fellow-men, thereby obtaining a power which enabled them 
to live in comparative idleness and luxury. Such were the 
ancient Egyptian priests; and such, with but few exceptions, 
were all who, for many centuries, held mighty nations in thrall 



16 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

by the mystic powers with which they cunningly clothed 
idolatry. True, there might be amongst their number a few 
blinded fanatics, who were victims to the very deceit which 
they practised upon others, whose faculties fell prostrate 
before the imaginary idols of their own creation, and who bowed 
down and worshipped the workmanship of their own hands. 

All the facts we are in possession of show that they contributed 
nothing to the support of the community; they took no share in 
war, though they claimed their portion of the plunder obtained 
from it; they were amenable to no tribunal but their own, but 
only sat apart in their gloomy groves, weaving their dangerous 
webs in darker folds over the eyes of their blinded worshippers. 
We see dimly through the shadows of those ancient forests where 
the druids dwelt; but amongst the forms that move there we 
catch glimpses of women sharing in their heathen rites; it may 
be of young and beautiful forms, who had the choice offered them, 
whether they would become sacrifices in the fires which so often 
blazed before their grim idols, or share in the solemn mockeries 
which those darksome groves enshrouded — those secrets which 
but to whisper abroad would have been death. 

The day of reckoning at last came — as it is ever sure to 
come — and heavy was the vengeance which alighted upon 
those bearded druids; instead of such living and moving evils, 
the mute marble of the less offensive gods which the Eomans 
worshipped usurped the places where their blood-stained sacri- 
fices were held. Jupiter frowned coldly down in stone, but he 
injured not. Mars held his pointed spear aloft, but the dreaded 
blow never descended. They saw the form of man worshipped, 
and though far off, it was still a nearer approach to the true 
Divinity than the wicker idol surrounded with flames, and filled 
with the writhing and shrieking victims who expired in the 
midst of indescribable agonies. Hope sat there mute and sor- 
rowful, with her head bowed, and her finger upon her lip, 
listening for the sound of those wings which she knew would 
bring Love and Mercy to her aid. She turned not her head to 
gaze upon those heathenish priests as they were dragged for- 
ward to deepen the inhuman stain which sunk deep into the 
dyed granite of the altar, for she knew that the atmosphere their 
breath had so long poisoned must be purified before the Divinity 
could approach; for that bright star which was to illume the 
world had not yet arisen in the east. The civilized heathen was 



LANDING OF JULIUS CAESAR. 17 

already preparing the way in the wilderness, and sweeping down 
the ruder barbarism before him. There were Roman galleys 
before, and the sound of the gospel-trumpet behind; and those 
old oaks jarred again to their very roots, and the huge circus of 
Stonehenge shook to its broad centre; for the white cliffs that 
looked out over the sea were soon to echo back a strange language, 
for Roman cohorts, guided by Julius Cassar, were riding upon 
the waves. 



CHAPTER IV. 

LANDING OF JULIUS CJESAE. 

" The cliffs themselves are bulwarks strong : the shelves 
And flats refuse great ships : the coast so open 
That every stormy blast may rend their cables, 
Put them from anchor : suffering double war — 
Their men pitched battle — their ships stormy fight ; 
For charges 'tis no season to dispute, 
Spend something, or lose all." The True Trojans, 1633. 

Few generals could put in a better plea for invading a country 
than that advanced by Julius Caesar, for long before he landed 
in this island, he had had to contend with a covert enemy in the 
Britons, who frequently threw bodies of armed men upon the 
opposite coasts, and by thus strengthening the enemy's ranks, 
protracted the war he had so long waged with the Gauls. To 
chastise the hardy islanders, overawe and take possession of 
their country, were but common events to the Roman generals, 
and Cassar no doubt calculated that to conquer he had but to show 
his well- disciplined troops. He was also well aware that the 
language and religion of the Britons and Gauls were almost the 
same, and that the island on which his eye was fixed was the 
great centre and stronghold of the druids; and, not ignorant of 
the power of these heathen priests, whose mysterious rites 
banded nation with nation, he doubtless thought, that if he could 
but once overthrow their altars, he could the more easily march 
over the ruins to more extended conquests. He had almost 
the plea of self-defence for setting out to invade England as he 
did, and such, in reality, is the reason he assigns; and not to 
vol. i. c 



18 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

possess the old leaven of ambition to strengthen his purpose, 
was to lack that which, in a Roman general, swelled into the 
glory of fame. Renown was the pearl Julius Caesar came in 
quest of; he was not a general to lead his legions back to the 
imperial city, when, after having humbled the pride of the 
Gauls, he still saw from the opposite coast the island of the pre- 
sumptuous Britons — barbarians, who had dared to hurl their 
pointed javelins in the very face of the Roman eagle; — not a man 
to return home, when, by stretching his arm over that narrow 
sea, he could gather such laurels as had never yet decked a 
Roman brow. 

The rumour of his intended invasion had already reached the 
Britons, who, well aware of the victories he had won in the 
opposite continent, and probably somewhat shaken by the terror 
which was attached to the name of the Roman conqueror, lost 
no time in sending over ambassadors with an offer of submission, 
and hostages. But although Caesar received the messengers 
kindly, and sent back with them Comius, a Gaul, in whose talent 
and integrity he had the greatest confidence, still his attention 
was not to be diverted from the object he had in view; and 
much as he commended their pacific promises, he but waited the 
return of the galley he had sent out to reconnoitre, before he 
embarked. Nor had he to wait long, for on the fifth day after 
his departure, Vblusenus returned from his expedition, with the 
meagre information he had been able to glean about the coast 
without landing ; though, such as it was, it induced Caesar to set 
sail at once, and, with twelve thousand men and eighty trans- 
ports, he started from the sea coast which stretches between 
Calais and Boulogne, and steered for the pale-faced cliffs of 
Albion. It was in a morning early in autumn, and before the 
Britons had gathered in their corn-harvest, when the Roman 
general first reached the British shore; nor can we, from the 
force which accompanied him, suppose that he was at all surprised 
to see the white cliffs of Dover covered with armed men ready to 
oppose his landing. But he was too wary a commander to 
attempt this in so unfavourable a spot, and in the face of such 
a force, and therefore resolved to lie by, until past the hour of 
noon, and await the arrival of the remainder of his fleet; for 
beside the force which we have already enumerated, there were 
eighteen transports in which his cavalry were embarked, but 
these were not destined to take a share in his first victory; so 



LANDING OF JULIUS C^SAR. 19 

finding both wind and tide in his favour, he, without their aid, 
sailed six or seven miles further down the coast, until he reached 
the low and open shore which stretches between Walmer Castle 
and Sandwich. This manoeuvre, however, was not lost upon 
the Britons, for as he measured his way over the sea, so did they 
keep pace with him upon the land, and when he reached the 
spot which was so soon to be the scene of slaughter, he found 
the island- army drawn up ready to receive him, with their 
cavalry and war-chariots placed in the order of battle, while 
many a half-naked and hardy soldier stood knee-deep amongst 
the breakers, which beat upon the beach, with pointed javelin, 
and massy club, and rough-hewn war-hatchet, eager to oppose 
his landing; — the proud Roman himself confesses that they 
presented a bold front, and made a brave defence. Superior 
military skill, and long-practised discipline, together with the 
formidable war-engines which he brought over in his galleys, 
and from which showers of missiles were projected that spread 
death and consternation around, were too much for the Britons, 
few of whom, except such as had fought in the ranks of the 
Gauls on the opposite shore, had ever before looked upon such 
terrible instruments of destruction; and under cover of these, 
after a short contest, the Roman general managed to disembark 
two of his legions. But for this mode of warfare, and those 
dreadful engines opening so suddenly upon them, Caesar would 
probably never have been able to land his forces; for we may 
readily imagine that, unaccustomed as they were to such a mode 
of attack, the consternation that it spread could scarcely be ex- 
ceeded by a first-class line-of-battle ship pouring in a broadside 
amongst the startled savages of the South Sea Islands, whose shores 
had never before echoed back the thunder of a cannon. Although 
Caesar himself states that for a time the Roman soldiers were 
reluctant to leave their ships, owing to the extent of water which 
flowed between them and the shore, still there is but little doubt 
that the fearless front presented by the Britons, as they stood 
knee-deep among the waves, in spite of the missiles which were 
sent forth in showers from the Roman galleys, somewhat appalled 
their highly disciplined invaders. Cassar has left it on record that 
his soldiers hesitated to land, until one of his standard-bearers, 
belonging to the tenth legion, sprang from the side of the galley 
into the sea, and waving the ensign over his head, exclaimed, 
" Follow me, my fellow-soldiers ! unless you will give up your 

c 2 



20 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

eagle to the enemy. I, at least, will do my duty to the republic 
and to our general." It was then, roused by the example of the 
courageous standard-bearer, that the Roman soldiers quitted 
their ships, and the combatants met hand to hand. 

Although upon that ancient battle-ground have trie winds and 
waves for nearly two thousand years beaten, and scarcely a 
name is left of those who fought, and fell, and dyed the stormy 
sea-beach with their blood; still, as we gaze down the dim vista 
of years, the mind's eye again catches glimpses of the unknown 
combatants — of the warm autumn sunshine falling upon those 
white and distant cliffs — of the high-decked Roman galleys rising 
above the ever-moving waves, and we seem to hear the deep 
voice of the Roman general rising beyond the murmur of the 
ocean; we see the gilded eagle rocking and swaying over the 
contending ranks, as they are driven forward or repulsed, just as 
the tide of battle ebbs and flows ; and ever upon the beaten beach 
where the waves come and go, they w r ash over some mangled and 
prostrate form, throwing up here a helmet and there a shield, 
while figures of the mailed Roman, and the half-naked Briton, lie 
dead and bleeding side by side, their deep sleep unbroken by the 
shout, and tramp, and tumult of war. The javelin with its 
leathern thong lies useless beside the bare brawny arm that could 
hurl it to within an inch of its mark, then recover it again without 
stepping from out the ranged rank; the dreaded spear lies broken, 
and the sharp head trodden deep into the sand by a Roman foot- 
step. Higher up the beach, we hear the thunder of the scythe- 
wheeled war chariots of the Britons, and catch glimpses of the 
glittering and outstretched blades, as they sparkle along in their 
swift career like a silvery meteor, and all we can trace of their 
course is the zig-zag pathway streaked with blood. Faint, and 
afar off, we hear the voices of the bearded druids hymning their 
war-chaunt, somewhere beyond the tall summits of the bald-faced 
cliffs. Anon, the roar of battle becomes more indistinct — slowly 
and reluctantly the Britons retreat, — the Roman soldiers pursue 
them not, but fall back again upon their galleys, and we hear 
only a few groans, and the lapping of the waves upon the sea- 
shore. And such might have been a brief summary of that 
combat, interspersed here and there with the daring deeds of 
warriors whose names will never be known; and then the eye 
of the imagination closes upon the scene, and all again is enve- 
loped in the deep darkness of nearly two thousand years. 



LANDING OF JULIUS CiESAR. 21 

As the Roman cavalry had not yet arrived, Caesar was pre- 
vented from following up the advantage he had gained over the 
Britons, and marching to where they were encamped, a little 
way within the island. The natives, however, doubtless to gain 
time, and better prepare themselves for a second attack, sent 
messengers to the Roman general, who were deputed to offer 
hostages as a guarantee of their submission to the Roman arms. 
They also liberated Comius, whom he had sent over with offers 
of alliance; and after a sharp rebuke, in which the Roman in- 
vader no doubt attempted to show how wrong it was on their 
part to attempt to oppose his landing and seizing upon their 
island, he forgave them, on condition that they would send him a 
given number of hostages, and allow him, without interference, 
to act as he chose for the future. Such, in spirit, were the 
terms on which the haughty conqueror dismissed the British 
chiefs, who probably returned with the determination of breaks 
ing them whenever an opportunity presented itself. A few 
hostages were, however, delivered, and several of the British 
leaders presented themselves before Caesar, perhaps as covert 
spies, although they came with avowed offers of allegiance, 
smarting as they were under their recent defeat. 

The Roman general was not destined to accomplish his con- 
quest without meeting with some disasters. The vessels which 
contained his cavalry, and were unable to accompany the first 
portion of his fleet, were again doomed to be driven back by a 
tempest upon the coast of Gaul, even after they had approached 
so near the British shore as to be within view of Caesar's en-» 
campment. The fatal night that saw his cavalry dashed back 
upon the opposite coast, also witnessed the destruction of several 
of his galleys, which were drawn up on the beach behind his 
encampment; while those that were lying at anchor in the dis- 
tant roadstead were either wrecked or cast upon the shore, and 
so battered by the winds and waves as to be wholly unfit for 
sea-service; for a high tide seemed to have rushed over his gal- 
leys ; and this, together with the storm, scarcely left him in the 
possession of a vessel in which he could put out to sea with 
his troops. Without either provisions to feed his soldiers, or 
materials to repair his shattered ships, and his whole camp 
deeply dispirited by these unforeseen calamities, the Roman 
general found himself, at the close of autumn, on a stormy and 
unfriendly coast, and in possession of but little more of the 



22 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

island than the barren beach on which he had won his hitherto 
useless victory. The Britons were not long before they dis- 
covered the full extent of these disasters ; frequent visits to the 
Roman encampment had also made them better acquainted with 
the number of the troops ; and as they had already measured 
their strength against the Roman arms, and the Roman weapons 
had doubtless lost much of their former terror in their eyes, they 
began to make preparations for sweeping off the whole force of 
the invading army, for they clearly saw that it was without 
either provisions, cavalry, or ships; and though they commenced 
their work cautiously, they made sure of obtaining an easy 
victory, and such as they thought would intimidate the hearts 
of all future invaders. Caesar was too wary a general not to 
see through their designs, for he perceived that the visits of the 
chiefs to his encampment were less frequent than formerly; that 
they were also slow in sending in the hostages they had pro- 
mised to give up; so, Roman-like, he determined to arm himself 
against the worst. He ordered some of his troops to repair such 
ships as were sea-worthy, out of the wreck of those which were 
useless; these, when ready, he sent over to Gaul for stores; 
others of his soldiers he sent out to scour the country in search 
of provisions, and to gather in whatever corn they could find, 
which must have been very trifling, as he states that, except in 
one field, all beside in the neighbourhood had been harvested. 
In this field, which stood at a short distance from one of those 
old primeval forests which everywhere abounded in the island, 
one of his legions were busily engaged gathering in corn, 
when they were suddenly attacked by the armed islanders, who 
rushed out of their hiding-places from the neighbouring thicket. 
Fortunately for the Roman soldiers, this chanced to be no great 
distance from their encampment; and as the ever-watchful eye 
of Caesar was open while he stood looking out from his strong 
fortifications, he saw a huge cloud of dust rising in the air in 
the direction of the distant corn-field, and sallying out of the 
encampment, at the head of two of his cohorts, he bade the re- 
mainder of the legion follow him with the utmost speed, and 
rushed off to the rescue of his soldiers. A few more minutes 
and he would have arrived too late to save any of them, for he 
found his legion, which had already suffered considerable loss, 
hemmed in on every side by the cavalry and war-chariots of 
the Britons; and he had no sooner succeeded in withdrawing his 



Hi 



W*W 




'&?mJ^ ^Jj^3€^ ^6/ Jl#?na^ aws^ JfaU&ru. 



LANDING OF JULIUS CESAR. 23 

engaged forces from the corn-field, than he hurried back to his 
strong entrenchments, the brave islanders having compelled him 
to make a hasty retreat. Several days of heavy rain followed, 
during which the Roman general confined his soldiers to the 
camp. But the hardy Britons were not to be deterred by the 
elements from following up the slight advantage which they 
had gained; so mustering a strong force of both horse and 
foot, they drew up and surrounded the Roman entrenchments. 
Caesar was too brave to sit quietly down and be bearded in 
his own stronghold by an army of barbarians ; so watching 
a favourable moment, he marshalled forth his mailed legions, 
which were by this time strengthened by a small body of 
cavalry that had returned with Comius from Gaul; and with 
these he fell upon the Britons and dispersed them with great 
slaughter, also pursuing them into the country, and setting fire 
to many of their huts, before he again returned to his encamp- 
ment. The Britons, as before, sued for peace, which Caesar 
readily granted, as he was anxious to return to G-aul with his 
leaky ships and wearied troops; nor did he wait to receive 
the offered hostages, but with the first fair wind set sail, having 
gained but little more than hard blows by this his first in- 
vasion. 

The warm spring days which brought back the swallow from 
over the sea, saw the Roman galleys again riding on the sunny 
waves that broke upon our rock-girt coast. From the sur- 
rounding heights and smooth slopes which dipped gently down 
into the sea, the assembled Britons beheld eight hundred vessels 
of various sizes hastening shoreward from the opening ocean. 
Amid waving crests and glittering coats of mail, and Roman 
eagles blazing like gold in the distance, and long javelins whose 
points shone like silver in the sunlight, as they rose high above 
the decks of the galleys, they came rolling along like a moving 
forest of spears, swayed aside for a moment as some restive war- 
steed, impatient to plant his sharp hoof upon the earth, jerked 
his haughty neck, and shook out his long dark mane upon the 
refreshing breeze, while his shrill neigh came ringing upon the 
beach above the hoarse murmur of the breakers, which rolled at 
the feet of the terrified Britons. On those decks were above 
thirty thousand Roman soldiers assembled, headed again by 
Julius Caesar, and now strengthened by two thousand cavalry. 
It is said that the excuse offered by the Roman general for this 



24 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

his second invasion, was, that hostages had not been sent in ac- 
cording to treaty, though the truth beyond doubt is, that his am- 
bition was dissatisfied with the hasty retreat he was compelled to 
make; his pride mortified at the bold front the islanders had pre- 
sented, for he must have felt, in his hurried departure to Gaul, 
that he bore back but little to entitle him to the much-coveted 
name of Conqueror, a name which his wars with the Britons 
never won him, for even Tacitus deigned to honour him with 
little more than the title of Discoverer, after all his exploits in 
our island had terminated. Unlike his former reception, he 
tins time landed without having to strike a blow, for the sight 
of such an armed host struck terror into the hearts of the 
natives, and they fled in the direction of the Stour, or near to 
that neighbourhood where Canterbury now stands. A proof 
how earnestly Caesar commenced his second campaign in the 
island, and how resolved he was to bring the war to a speedy 
end, is found, in his setting out at midnight to pursue the 
Britons, scarcely leaving a sixth part of his army behind, to 
protect his shipping and encampment. Perchance, the haughty 
Roman had boasted how soon he would bring over a few of the 
barbaric chiefs for his friends, and add to their stock of foreign 
curiosities a few dozens of war-chariots, and had laughed amongst 
his officers at the joke of their being picked up by some island 
warrior, and carried off in his scythe-armed car by a couple of 
swift-footed steeds. He frequently wrote to Rome, and per- 
haps occasionally boasted in his epistles, what speedy work he 
would make of the conquest of Britain. Be this as it may, 
there is proof in the strength of the force which he this time 
landed, that he already began to appreciate aright the brave 
blood that flowed through those ancient British veins. 

In the still depth of midnight did the measured tramp of 
Roman infantry ring upon the silence, as they strode inland to- 
wards the heart of Kent, and beside those old forests and reedy 
morasses was the heavy tread of Caasar's cavalry heard; the rattle 
of their mail, and the jingling of their harness, broken by the 
short answers of the scouts as they rode hastily in and out, an- 
nouncing a clear course, or with low obeisance receiving the 
commands of the general. We may picture some poor peasant 
startled from his sleep by that armed throng, dragged out of his 
wattled hut by the side of the wild forest, and rudely handled by 
the Roman soldiers, because he either refused to tell, or was 



LANDING OF JULIUS CJESAR. 25 

ignorant of the position his countrymen had taken up. We 
may picture the herdsman hurrying his flocks into the forest 
fastnesses as he heard that solemn and distant tramp coming 
like subdued thunder upon the night -breeze, so unlike the wild 
shoutings and mingled rolling of his own war-chariots, amid 
which the voices of women and children were ever mingled; so 
solemn, deep, and orderly would march along those well- disci- 
plined Roman troops, contrasted with the irregular movements 
of the Britons. Cassar reached the reedy margin of a river 
in the cold grey dawn of a spring morning; and as the misty 
vapour cleared up from the face of the water, he beheld the 
hardy islanders drawn up on the rising ground beyond the 
opposite bank, ready to dispute the passage if he ventured 
across. The charge was sounded, and at the first blast of the 
Roman trumpets the cavalry dashed into the river, and the well- 
tempered steel blades of the invaders soon began to hew a path 
through the opposing ranks, for almost at the first stroke the 
swords of the Britons, which were made of tin and copper, bent, 
and became useless, while those wielded by their assailants 
were double-edged, and left a gash every time they descended. 
The horses broke through the British infantry, as if they had 
been but a reed fence; and as their cavalry was the heaviest, 
they met in full career the rush of the island war-chariots, 
plunged their long javelins into the chests of the horses, and 
received the shock of the British cavalry on the points of their 
highly-tempered and strong-shafted spears. The whole affray 
seemed more like a skirmish than a regular engagement, as if the 
war-chariots and cavalry of the Britons were only employed to 
check the advance of the Roman columns, while the remainder 
of their force retreated to a strong fortification, which stood at 
some distance in the woods, and which was barricaded by felled 
trees, fastened together and piled one above another; thither 
the remainder of the army also fled, leaving the Romans to 
follow after they had regained the order of march, and sent back 
to their camp those who were wounded in the skirmish on the 
river bank. These marches through wild, uncultivated forests 
were very harassing to the heavy-armed Roman legions, who 
made but slow progress compared to the light-footed troops of the 
Britons, for they were inured to this woodland warfare, and 
as familiar with the forest passes as the antlered deer. 

Pursuit was again the order of the day; the stronghold in the 



26 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

forest was carried by the Romans, and amongst the legions 
which distinguished themselves in the contest, was the one who, 
but for the timely arrival of Cassar, would probably have left 
their bones to whiten in the harvest-field, from which they had 
had so narrow an escape in the preceding autumn. Another 
evening darkened over the forest, under cover of which the Bri- 
tons again retreated further inland, without being pursued; for 
the Roman general seemed to have a dread of those gloomy old 
woods, through which the paths, even in the open noon-daj, were 
rugged, uncertain, and difficult, and were as likely to lead 
towards some bog, lake, or dangerous morass, as to any of the 
British fortifications; the Roman soldiers were therefore employed 
in throwing up intrenchments, and strengthening their position 
in case of a surprise. It came, but not until morning, and in- 
stead of the Britons, was brought by a party of Roman horsemen 
from the camp ; the galleys were again driven upon the shore by 
the waves, and many of them wrecked; the angry ocean had once 
more risen up against the fortunes of Caesar. These unwelcome 
tidings arrived just as he had given the order to advance; a few 
minutes more, and he would have been off in full pursuit after the 
Britons; the unexplored forest stretched before him; his eagles 
glittered in the morning sunshine; the trumpets had sounded the 
march, when the order was given to halt, and above twenty 
thousand armed Romans were compelled to return at the bidding 
of the waves. The mound they had thrown up was deserted; 
the river, which had but a few hours before been reddened by 
the blood of many a brave warrior, was repassed without oppo- 
sition; and both cavalry and infantry now commenced a rapid 
retreat in the direction of the Roman encampment. When 
Cassar reached the sea-shore, he beheld a sight discouraging 
enough to blanch even a Roman cheek; many of his finest galleys 
had become total wrecks; others it seemed almost impossible to 
repair; the few that were saved he despatched at once to Gaul 
for assistance, set every hand that could use a saw, axe, or 
mallet, immediately to work, and instead of sitting down and 
bemoaning his ill-fortune, he, like a brave-hearted Roman as he 
was, began to make up for his loss, and gave orders for building 
several new ships. Added to this, he had the remainder drawn 
on shore, and ran up a barrier to protect them from the ravages 
of the ocean, thus including a dry-dock within his fortified 
encampment. All these preparations necessarily consumed some 
time, during which the islanders remained undisturbed. 



LANDING OF JULIUS C^SAR. 27 

Returning to the Britons, who had not been idle during this 
brief interval, we find their army greatly increased, and a re- 
nowned prince, named Cassivellaunus, placed as commander at 
the head of the states, they wisely judging that one who had so 
signalized himself in his wars with the neighbouring tribes, was 
best fitted to lead them on, now that they were banded together 
for mutual protection against the Romans. Nobly did the 
barbaric chief acquit himself; he waited not to be attacked; 
but having selected his own battle-ground, charged upon the 
Roman cavalry at once, with his horsemen and war-chariots. 
Although Caesar did at last gain a slight victory, and, as he 
himself says, drove the Britons into the woods, and lost several 
of his soldiers through venturing too far, still it does not appear 
that he obtained the day, for the Britons already began to find 
the advantages they obtained through occasional retreats, which 
enabled them to draw the enemy either nearer to, or into the 
woods — a stratagem which in this skirmish they availed them- 
selves of; for while the Romans were busy, as was their custom, 
in protecting their camp for the night, by throwing up ramparts 
and digging trenches around it, the Britons sallied out from 
another opening in the wood, and slaughtered the outer guard. 
The Roman general ordered two cohorts to advance to the rescue; 
they were also repulsed, and a tribune was slain; fresh troops 
were summoned into action, and the Britons betook themselves 
to their old leafy coverts with but very little loss. On this 
occasion, the Roman general was compelled to acknowledge, 
that his heavy-armed soldiers were no match for an enemy 
who only retreated one moment to advance with greater force 
the next, and would, whenever an opportunity presented itself, 
dismount from their horses, or leap out of their chariots, and 
renew the battle on foot, and that, too, on the very edge of some 
dangerous bog, where an armed horseman was sure to founder 
if he but made a leap beyond the boundary line with which they 
were so familiar. Another day, a disastrous one for the Britons, 
and the battle was renewed, and they, as before, commenced the 
attack, waiting, however, until the Roman general had sent out 
a great portion of his cavalry and infantry to forage — a body 
amounting to more than half his army, no mean acknowledg- 
ment of the estimation in which the island force was held, while 
it required from ten to fifteen thousand men to collect the supplies 
he needed for one day; a tolerable proof that he had not forgotten 
the all but fatal skirmish in the corn-field when he first landed. 



28 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

Emboldened by their success on the previous day, the Britons this 
time charged up to the solid body of the Roman legions, rushing 
fearlessly against the wall which their well-disciplined ranks 
presented, a firm phalanx, that had withstood the shock of the 
bravest armies in Europe without being broken — an array 
strengthened every moment by the return of the foragers. One 
solid, impenetrable mass now bore down, like a mighty avalanche, 
upon the congregated Britons; a vast sea of spears, and shields, 
and swords, all heaving onward without resistance, Caesar herald- 
ing the way, like the God of the storm, the armed cavalry 
thundering onward like the foremost wave, until the whole mass 
struck upon the iron stems of the gnarled oaks, which stood 
at the edge of the forest, then rolled back again into the 
plain, leaving a ridgy line of wounded and dead to mark 
their destructive course. It was the first open shore on 
which the full tide of the Roman arms had flowed on the 
islanders. The waves had many a time before gathered together 
and broken, but here the full surge of battle swept uninterrupted 
upon the beach. Although the sun still sets over that great 
grave-yard of the dead, not a monument remains to tell of its 
" whereabout," or point out the spot where many a brave soldier 
looked round and took his rest. 

Through Kent, and along the valley which stretches at the foot 
of the Surrey hills, did Cassar pursue the shattered army of the 
British prince, his march probably extending over that level line 
of beautiful meadow -land on which the old palace of Eltham still 
stands, along the wooded neighbourhood of Penge and Sydenham, 
and out at the foot of the Norwood hills, to where, far beyond, the 
Thames still glitters like a belt of silver as it goes winding round 
near Chertsey. Here the British leader had rallied ; on the opposite 
bank stood his forces, and in the bed of the river he had caused 
pointed stakes to be planted, to prevent his pursuers from cross- 
ing the ford. These were but slight obstacles in the path of 
Caesar; he ordered his cavalry to advance, commanded the infantry 
to follow at their heels, or at their sides, as they best could; and 
so they passed, some grasping the manes of the war-horses with 
one hand to steady their steps in the current, while with the other 
they held the double-edged sword, ready to hew or thrust, the 
moment they came within arm's length of the enemy. Cassive- 
llaunus was once more compelled to retreat, though never so far 
but that he was always in readiness to fall upon any detached 



LANDING OF JULIUS CESAR. 29 

cohorts, and with his five thousand war-chariots to hang upon 
and harass any party of foragers: Caesar was at last compelled 
to send out his legions to protect the horsemen while they 
gathered in provisions. Even then the island prince drove and 
carried off all the cattle and corn which was pastured or garnered 
in the neighbourhood of the Roman encampment. The invaders 
were never safe except when within their own entrenchments; 
for they had now to deal with an enemy who had grown too 
wary to trust himself again in the open field, but contented himself 
by harassing and hanging upon the detached masses which he could 
waylay. He was well acquainted with all the secret passes 
and intricate roads, and kept the Roman guards in a continual 
state of alarm; and when it was not safe to attack them, the 
Britons would at times suddenly assemble at the outskirts of the 
woods, and shaking their javelins, to the foot of which a hollow 
ball of copper, containing lumps of metal or pebbles, was affixed, 
commence such a sudden thundering and shouting as startled 
the horses, and caused them to run affrighted in every direction; 
they then seized upon the forage, and ere the heavy legions could 
overtake them, they were off at full speed far away in the forest 
passes, along paths known only to themselves. Such a system of 
warfare was new even to Caasar, and as yet he had only gained 
the ground he encamped upon — that which contained his army, 
for the time, was all he could call his own. 

But the Britons could not long remain true to themselves; petty 
jealousies and long- stifled murmurs began at last to find vent; 
one tribe after another came to the Roman camp; to all he made 
fair promises, took their corn and their hostages, sowing no doubt 
the seeds of dissension deeper amongst them at the same time, and 
getting them also to inform him where the capital of their warlike 
chief was situated, which secret they were base enough to betray; 
for many of the petty princes envied the renown which Cassive- 
llaunus had won by his valour. Even Cassar's narrative at this turn 
of events enlists our sympathies on the side of the British general, 
and the handful of brave followers who still remained true to their 
country's cause. His capital, which is supposed to have stood on 
the site of St. Albans, and which in those days was surrounded by 
deep woods and broad marshes, was attacked; many were slain, 
some prisoners taken, and numbers of cattle driven away; for 
the forest town of this courageous chief appears to have been 
nothing more than a cluster of woodland huts surrounded by a 



30 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

ditch, and strengthened by a rampart of mud and trees, a work 
which the Roman legions would level to the earth in a brief space 
of time. Though beaten and forced from his capital, the British 
prince retreated upon another fortress further into the wood; 
from this he was also driven. Still his great heart buoyed him 
up; and although defeated, he determined to have another struggle 
for the liberty of his unworthy country, and despatched mes- 
sengers into Kent, bidding the Britons to fall at once upon the 
Roman camp and fleet. Had the prince himself been present, it 
is not improbable that this daring deed would have been exe- 
cuted, for he was unequalled in falling upon the enemy, and 
carrying his point by surprise: but he was not; and although the 
attack did honour to the valour of the brave men of Kent, it 
failed. Many were slain, and the Romans returned victorious 
to their camp. It wanted but the genius who meditated so bold 
a stroke to have carried it into effect; had he been there, Caesar's 
eagles would never more have spread out their golden wings be- 
neath the triumphal arches of haughty Rome. 

Fain would we here drop the curtain over the name of this 
ancient British warrior, and leave him to sleep in the heart of 
his high-piled barrow undisturbed. Alas! he was compelled to 
sue to the Roman general for peace, who no doubt offered it him 
willingly, conscious that, had he succeeded in his bold attempt 
upon the camp and fleet, the Roman would have had to kneel for 
the same grant at the foot of the Briton. Caesar demanded 
hostages, got them, and hurried off to his ships, and without 
leaving a Roman troop behind, hastened with all his force to the 
coast of Gaul, and never again did he set foot upon our island 
shore. Over the future career of Cassivellaunus the deep mid- 
night of oblivion has settled down; the waves of time have washed 
no further record upon that vast shore which is strewn over with 
the wrecks of so many mighty deeds; the assembled druids who 
chaunted his requiem, and the Cymric or Celtic bard who in 
rude rhymes broke the forest echoes as he recounted his exploits 
in battle, have all passed away ; and but for the pen of his Roman 
opponent we should never have known the bravery of that British 
heart, which, nearly two thousand years ago, beat with hopes and 
fears like our own. 



31 



CHAPTER V. 

CAKACTACUS, BOADICEA, AND AGKICOLA. 

" And many an old man's sigh, and many a widow's, 
And many an orphan's water-standing eye, — 
Men for their sons', wives for their husbands' fate, 
And orphans for their parents' timeless death, — 
Did rue the hour that ever thou wert born." Shakspebe. 

For nearly a century after the departure of Csesar, we have no 
records of the events which transpired in England; that the in- 
habitants made some progress in civilization during that period 
is all we know; for there can be but little doubt that a few of 
the Roman soldiers remained behind, and settled in the island 
after the first invasion, and introduced some degree of refinement 
amongst the tribes with whom they peaceably dwelt. No 
attempt, however, was made, during this long interval, to fortify 
the island against any future invasion; and when the Roman 
commander, Plautius, landed, about ninety-seven years after the 
retirement of Caesar, he met with no resistance until he had led 
his army some distance into the inland country. After a time 
a few skirmishes took place — some of the tribes submitted — but 
nothing like a determined resistance seems to have been offered 
to the Roman arms, until Plautius had extended his victories 
beyond the Severn, and compelled the Britons to retreat into the 
marshes beside the Thames. Here it was that the Roman com- 
mander first learned to estimate aright the valour of the force 
he had to contend against; for the bogs and swamps which had 
so often checked the meditated movements of Cassar, proved 
nearly fatal to the force headed by Plautius, who, after suffering 
a severe loss, retreated to a secure position beside the Thames. 
In this strong encampment he calmly awaited the arrival of the 
Emperor Claudius, who, after a time, joined him with a consi- 
derable reinforcement — just stayed long enough to look round 
him — received the submission of a few petty states — and then 
returned most triumphantly to Rome; for it is questionable 
whether he ever fought a single battle. It is at this period that 
the figure of Caractacus heaves up slowly above the scene; we 
see him but dimly and indistinctly at first, but, after a time ? 



32 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

he towers above all his compeers, as Cassivellaunus did in the 
days of Caesar. We see him moving now and then between the 
divided legions commanded by Vespasian and Plautius, but 
nothing of importance is done on either side. The Isle of 
"Wight is for a short time subdued; a small portion of the island 
south of the Thames is occupied by the invaders; then Plautius 
is recalled to Rome, and before he well arrives at the imperial 
city, the whole camp is in disorder; the Roman legions can no 
longer protect the states that have submitted to them. Carac- 
tacus is up, armed, and in earnest. Ostorius Scapula next 
appears, and places himself at the head of the Roman ranks, 
strikes an unexpected blow in the midst of winter, and gains 
some advantage over the Britons. About this time it appears 
that the Romans first commenced the erection of forts in the 
island, thus keeping the conquered states within well-guarded 
lines, and protecting them from the attacks of the unsubdued 
tribes, taking good care, at the same time, that they did not 
escape and join their independent countrymen. His next step 
was to disarm all the states within these limits; and as some of 
them had become willing allies, rebellion soon broke out within 
these circumscribed bounds. Once disarmed, it will readily 
be imagined how easily they were beaten. Ostorius had now 
work enough on his hands; the tribes that occupied the present 
counties of York and Lancashire next arose, attacked the 
Roman legions, and were defeated. It was then that the ancient 
Silures sprang up, the bravest of all the British tribes, the true 
Cimbrii of early renown. The battle-ground now shifts into 
Wales, and Caractacus is the commander. Almost every moun- 
tain-pass and ford were familiar to him; his renown already rang 
through the island; wherever the Roman eagle had bowed its 
haughty neck, he had been present; the Roman general knew 
with whom he had to deal, and moved forward with all his avail- 
able force. Around the standard of Caractacus had rallied every 
tribe from the surrounding country, who refused to bow their 
necks to the invaders. Tacitus says that he chose his ground 
with great skill, in the centre of steep and difficult hills, raising 
ramparts of massive stones, where the ascent was possible; while 
between his army and the road by which the Romans must 
approach, there flowed a river which it was difficult to ford. As 
the enemy drew near, he exhorted his soldiers to remember how 
their forefathers had driven Caesar from Britain, spake to them 




(j?€Z/La&fcuzoJ caAA^&£ caAs&?s£/ fa- ^/i&rn^y. 



CARACTACUS, BGADICEA, AND AGRICOLA. 33 

of freedom, their homes, their wives and children, in a style 
which the Roman historians would have pronounced eloquent, 
had the address flowed from the mouth of one of their own ge- 
nerals. The Britons again were conquered, though they fought 
bravely — their naked bosoms and helmetless heads were sure 
marks for every well-tempered Roman blade, while their own 
copper swords bent back at the first thrust they made at their 
mail-clad enemies. Caractacus was not slain, though he only 
escaped to be given up in chains to the Romans by his treache- 
rous stepmother, Cartismanda, after having for nine years waged 
war against the invaders of Britain. The British leader was 
dragged (with his wife and children) a prisoner to Rome; his 
fame had flown before him, and the Romans, who ever respected 
valour, crowded round to look at the renowned island chief. He 
alone, of all the British captives, shrunk not when brought be- 
fore the Roman emperor, Claudius. There was a noble bearing 
about the man : that eye which had never quailed before the 
keen edge of the uplifted blade in battle — that heart which had 
never sunk, though it was the last to retreat from the hard 
fought field, buoyed him up in the presence of his enemy, and 
the noble Roman ordered his chains to be struck off, an act 
which did honour to the successor of Cassar. Caractacus would 
have done the same, had Claudius obtained the same renown, 
and so stood a captive before him. Whether the brave barbarian 
died in some contest with a gladiator in the arena of Rome, 
"butchered to make a holiday" in a later day, before Nero, or 
returned to his country, or joined the legions of his conquerors, 
and fell fighting in some foreign land, we know not — we see his 
chains struck off before the Emperor Claudius, then he vanishes 
for ever from the page of history. 

Even this undoubted victory was of but little advantage to 
the Roman arms. The Silures proved themselves worthy de- 
scendants of the ancient Cymry, the terror of whose name, as 
we have before shown, had in former times carried consterna- 
tion even to the very gates of Rome. They broke up the enemy's 
camp, fell upon their lines and forts, drove the Roman legions 
back to their old intrenchments, and, but for the timely arrival 
of a party of foragers, would have cut up every soldier within 
the Roman encampment in Wales. Nor could Ostorius, when 
he brought up all his legions to battle, conquer them again. 
One skirmish was but the forerunner of another; the Britons 

VOL. I. D 



34 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

but retreated to-day, to advance with stronger force on the mor- 
row; until at last, harassed and vexed, ever fighting but obtaining 
no advantage, the commander, who had conquered Caractacus, 
fortified himself within his camp, and died. He was the 
bravest general that the Britons had ever looked upon since the 
days of Caesar. Pass we by Frontinus, Didius, and Veranius; 
there are other shadows to pass over this dimly-lighted stage of 
our history, who " will do strange deeds and then depart." 

Wearied and harassed by such a succession of invasions, the 
chiefs of the druids, with many of the Britons who refused to 
submit to the Roman yoke, retired to the island of Anglesey, 
that they might, amid its shadowy groves and deep passes, fol- 
low their religious rites without molestation, and sleep securely 
without being aroused by the din of arms which was ever awak- 
ening the echoes that dwelt amongst gloomy Albion's white 
cliffs. To this island, guarded more by the terrors of supersti- 
tion than the substantial array of arms, the Roman commander, 
Paulinus Suetonius, determined to cross; and to accomplish his 
purpose, he built a number of flat-bottomed boats in which he 
placed his troops. As the invading force neared the opposite 
shore, they were struck with terror by the strange scene which 
rose before them, and many a Roman heart that had never before 
quailed in the stormy front of battle, stood appalled before the 
dreaded array which had there congregated. It seemed as if they 
had reached the shores of the fabulous Hades of their ancient 
poets; for there women were seen rushing in every direction in 
dresses on which were woven the forms of dismal objects; and 
while their long dishevelled hair streamed out in the sea-breeze, 
they brandished their flaming torches aloft as they rushed to 
and fro, their eyes glaring wildly out of the dense smoke, as it 
blew back again in their angry faces, while they looked out 
" fierce as the furies, terrible as hell." Behind them were the 
grim druids collected, with hands and eyes uplifted, as they in- 
voked the curses of the gods upon the heads of the Roman legions ; 
before them the huge fires which were already kindled, blazed and 
crackled, and shot out their consuming tongues of flame, as if 
they were hungry for their prey, while the druids pointed to the 
invading force, and bade their warriors hasten and bring their 
victims to the sacrifice. The Roman soldiers seemed paralysed; 
they stood almost motionless, as if they had not power to strike 
a blow. They fell back affrighted before the lighted torches of 



CARACTACUS, B0ADICEA, AND AGRICOLA. 35 

the women, and the curses of the druids, which struck more 
terror into their souls than if the thunder of a thousand war- 
chariots had borne down upon them, in all their headlong array. 
Aroused at last by the voice of their leader, who bade them to 
despise a force of frantic women and praying priests, they rushed 
boldly on, even to the very foot of the dreaded fires; and many 
a bearded druid was that day driven before the points of the 
Roman spears into the devouring flames which they had kindled 
for the destruction of their invaders. Dreadful was the carnage 
that ensued; even the sacred groves were fired or cut down; if 
the Britons escaped the flames, it was but to rush back again 
upon the points of the Roman swords — the sun sunk upon a 
scene of desolation and death — a landscape blackened with ashes 
— fires that had been extinguished by blood, whose grey embers 
faded and died out, as the last sobs of the expiring victims sub- 
sided into the eternal silence of death. 

The spirit of British vengeance, though asleep, was not yet 
dead, and at the rumour of these dreadful deeds it sprang up, 
awake and armed, on the opposite shore; as if the blow which 
struck down their sacred groves, and overthrew their ancient 
altars, had sent a shock across the straits of Menai, which had 
been felt throughout the whole length and breadth of the land ; 
as if at the fall of the sacred groves of Mona the spirits of the 
departed dead had rushed across, while the voices of the murdered 
druids filled all the air with their wailing cries of lamentation, 
until even women sprang up demanding vengeance, and Boadicea 
leaped into her war-chariot, as if to rebuke the British warriors by 
her presence, and to show them that the soul of a woman, loathing 
their abject slavery, was ready to lead them on to either liberty 
or death, and to place her fair form in the dangerous front of 
battle — for her white shoulders had not escaped the mark of the 
Roman scourge. Her daughters had been violated before her 
eyes, her subjects driven from their homes, the whole territory 
of the Iceni over which she reigned as queen groaned again 
beneath the weight of cruelty, and oppression, and wrong; her 
subjects were made slaves; her relations were dragged into cap- 
tivity by the haughty conquerors; her priests slaughtered; her 
altars overthrown, and another creed thrust into the throats of 
those over whom she ruled, at the points of the Roman swords. 
Her sufferings, her birth, the death of her husband king Prasut- 
agus, her towering spirit, her bold demeanour, and the energy of 

d 2 



36 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

her address, struck like an electric shock throughout all the sur- 
rounding tribes, and many a state which had bowed in abject sub- 
mission beneath the haughty feet of the conquerors, now sprang 
up, and as if endowed with a new life, rushed onward to the 
great mustering ground of battle, like clouds hastening up to join 
the dark mass which gathers about the dreaded thunder-storm, 
before the deafening explosion bursts forth. 

On the Roman colony of Camaladonum did this terrible tem- 
pest firlt break, scattering before it a whole Eoman legion, and 
scarcely leaving one alive behind to tell the tale. The voices of 
pity and mercy were unheard amid that dire and revengeful 
din; no quarter was given, no prisoners were made; blinded 
with revenge, stung to madness by the remembrance of their 
grievous wrongs, the assailants rushed forward, sparing neither 
age nor sex; destruction seemed to have set all her dreadful in- 
struments at once to work, and in a few days upwards of seventy 
thousand Romans perished by the gibbet, the fire, and the 
sword. Such of the Roman officers as could escape, fled to 
their galleys, and hurried off to Gaul. Even Suetonius, who 
had hastened back at the first rumour of this dreadful carnage, 
was compelled to abandon London, already a place of some dis- 
tinction, in despair, and hurry off with his legions into the open 
provinces. As he retreated, the Britons entered; and out of 
the vast multitude which a few hours before those walls had 
inclosed, scarcely a soul remained alive. The Roman soldiers 
rushed into their temples to avoid the assailants; the figure of 
the goddess of Victory which they worshipped fell to the 
ground; the females ran wailing and shrieking into the streets, 
into the council chambers, into the theatres, with their children 
in their arms. In the red sunsets of the evening sky their 
heated imagination traced moving and blood-coloured phantoms, 
colonies in ruins, and overthrown temples, whose pillars were 
stained with human gore, and in the ridges which the receding 
tide left upon the shore, their fancies conjured up the car- 
cases of the dead. Before the desolating forces of the stern 
Boadicea ran Fear and Terror, with trembling steps and pale 
looks; by her side grim Destruction, and blood-dyed Carnage 
stalked, while behind marched Death, taking no note of Sorrow, 
and Grief, and Silence, whom he left together to mourn amid 
the solitude of those unpeopled ruins. Meantime, Suetonius, 
having strengthened his army to a force which now amounted 



CARACTACUS, BOADICEA, AND AGRICOLA. 37 

to upwards of ten thousand men, chose the most favourable 
position for his troops, where he awaited the arrival of the 
Britons to commence the battle. Nor had he to wait long; for, 
flushed with victory, and reeking fresh from the carnage, the 
assailants came up, with Boadicea, thundering in her war- 
chariot, at their head, and soon drew together in the order of 
battle. The Romans were now actuated by feelings of revenge. 
With her long yellow hair unbound, and falling in clusters 
far below the golden chain which encircled her waist, her dark 
eyes flashing vengeance as she glanced angrily aside to where 
the Roman legions were drawn up in the distance, (an impene- 
trable mass, looking in their coats of mail like a wall of steel, 
bristling with swords and spears,) and with the curved crimson 
of her cruel lip haughtily upturned, Boadicea rose tall and queen- 
like from the war-chariot in which her weeping daughters were 
seated, and turning to the assembled tribes who hemmed her 
round with a forest of tall spears, she raised her hand to com- 
mand silence; and when the busy murmur of subdued applause 
which acknowledged her bravery had died away, she bade them 
remember the wrongs they had to revenge, the weight of 
oppression which had so long bowed their necks to the dust; the 
sword, and fire, and famine, which had desolated their fair land; 
their sons and daughters carried off and doomed to all the 
miseries of slavery; their priests ruthlessly butchered at the 
foot of the altar; their ancient groves hewn to the ground 
by sacrilegious hands, and consumed by fire; she pointed to 
her daughters whom the invaders had violated, and raising 
her white and rounded arm, showed the marks which the 
scourge of the ruffianly Catus had left behind; then brandishing 
her spear aloft, she shook the loosened reins over her restive 
steeds, and was soon lost in the thickest of the battle. But the 
lapse of a century, and the many battles in which they had 
fought, had not yet enabled the Britons to stand firm before the 
shock of the Roman legions. They were defeated with tre- 
mendous slaughter; and the queen, who had so nobly revenged 
her country's wrongs, only escaped the carnage to perish by 
her own hand. Even down the dim vista of time we can yet 
perceive her; the flower of her army lying around dead; the 
remnant routed and pursued by the merciless Romans, while 
she, heartbroken, hopeless, and alone, sacrifices her own life; 
and though but a heathen, does a deed which in that barbarous 



38 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

age would have ennobled her had she been born in the country 
of her civilized invaders, who would proudly have erected a 
statue to her memory in that city whose haughty emperors pro- 
claimed themselves the conquerors of the world. Little did the 
vanquishers dream a woman would spring up and emulate the 
deeds of their most renowned warriors, and that the fair bar- 
barian would in after ages leave behind her a more than Roman 
name. 

But neither the destruction of the druids, the death of Boa- 
dicea, nor the destruction of her immense army, enabled the 
Romans to extend their possessions with safety in the island. 
They were ever, as in the days of Caesar, upon the defensive; no 
colony, unless a legion of soldiers were encamped in the immediate 
neighbourhood, was safe; and even after defeating the queen of 
the Iceni, and receiving a great force of both infantry and cavalry, 
Suetonius left the island unconquered, and the war unfinished, 
and returned to Rome. 

It is a pleasure to turn from these scenes of slaughter, to find 
that the next Roman general of note who came over to govern 
Britain, subdued more tribes by the arts of peace, and by kindness, 
than all his predecessors had done by the force of arms. Such is 
the power of genius, that we seem again to be in the company of 
one we have long known; for Agricola was the father-in-law of 
Tacitus, the eloquent historian, and there is but little doubt that 
the record of the few facts we are in possession of connected with 
this periocVwere dictated by the general himself to his highly gifted 
son-in-law; we can almost in fancy see the grey-headed veteran 
and the author seated together in some Roman villa discoursing 
about these " deeds of other days." He had served under Sue- 
tonius, was present at that dreadful massacre in the island of 
Anglesey, where men, women, and children were so mercilessly 
butchered — had with his own eyes looked upon Boadicea. What 
would we not now give to know all that he had seen? To write 
this portion of our history with his eyes — to go on from page to 
page recording what he witnessed from day to day — to have him 
seated by our hearth now as he no doubt many a time sat beside 
Tacitus. What word-pictures would we then paint — what wild 
scenes would we portray! 

It was Agricola who first taught the ancient Britons to erect 
better houses, to build walled cities instead of huts; who bestowed 



CARACTACUS, BOADICEA, AND AGRICOLA. 39 

praise upon their improvements, instructed them in the Eoman 
language, and persuaded them to adopt a more civilized costume; 
to erect baths and temples; to improve their agriculture; and thus 
by degrees he so led them on from step to step, that instead of a 
race of rude barbarians, they began to assume the aspect of a 
more civilized nation. Still he had to contend with old and 
stubborn tribes, who held it a disgrace to adopt any other man- 
ners than those of their rude forefathers— the same difficulties 
beset the path of the Norman on a later day — the same obsta- 
cles are met with in Ireland at the present hour — pride, indo- 
lence, ignorance, and a host of other evils have first to be 
uprooted before the better seed can be sown. It would but be 
wearisome to follow the footsteps of the Roman general through 
all his campaigns; before him the imperial eagles were borne to 
the very foot of the Grampian hills; he erected forts for the 
better protection of the country he had conquered, and the huge 
rampart which ran from the Frith of Clyde to the Forth was 
begun under Agricola. He appears to have been the first of the 
Roman commanders who brought his legions in contact with the 
Caledonians, or men of the woods, and even there he met with a 
formidable opponent in the Caledonian chief named Galgacus; the 
same struggle for liberty was made there as in England — battles, 
bloodshed, death, and desolation are about all that history records 
of these campaigns, if we except what may be called a voyage of 
discovery; for it appears that the Roman general sailed round 
the coast of Scotland to the Land's End in Cornwall, and thence 
to the point from which he had first started — supposed to 
be Sandwich — being the first of the Roman generals who, from 
personal observation, discovered that Britain was an island. 
Shortly after completing this voyage Agricola was recalled to 
Rome. The next period of our history carries us to other con- 
flicts, which took place before those mighty bulwarks that the 
Roman conquerors built up to keep back the northern invaders, 
who in their turn overran England with more success than the 
Romans had done before them. It was then a war between the 
Romans and the Picts and Scots, instead of, as before, between 
the Romans and the Britons. Although they doubtless originally 
descended from the same Celtic race, yet through the lapse of 
years, and their having lingered for some time in Ireland and in 
Gaul, we are entangled in so many doubts, that all we can clearly 



40 



HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 



comprehend is, that three different languages were spoken in 
the island of Britain at this period, namely, Welsh, Irish, and 
another; but whether the latter was Gothic or Pictish, learned 
men who have dedicated long years of study to the subject have 
not yet determined by what name it is to be distinguished. 



CHAPTER VI. 

DEPAETUEE OF THE EOMANS. 

" He looked and saw wide territory spread 
Before him ; towns and rural works between, 
Cities of men, with lofty gates and towers, 
Concourse in arms, fierce forces threatening war — 
Assaulting : others, from the wall defend 
With dart and javelin, stones and sulphurous fire : 
On each hand slaughter and gigantic deeds." 

Milton's Pakadise Lost, Book xi. 

The fortified line erected by Agricola was soon broken through 
by the northern tribes, and the Emperor Adrian erected a 
much stronger barrier, though considerably within the for- 
mer; and this extended from the Tyne to the Solway, crossing 
the whole breadth of that portion of the island. Urbicus, 
as if determined that the Romans should not lose an inch 
of territory which they had once possessed, restored the more 
northern boundary which Adrian had abandoned, and once 
more stretched the Roman frontier between the Friths of 
Clyde and Forth; they thus possessed two walls, the more 
northern one, first begun by Agricola, and the southern one, 
erected by Adrian. Forts were built at little more than a 
mile distant from each other along this line, and a broad ram- 
part ran within the wall, by which troops could readily 
march from one part to another. This outer barrier was 
the scene where many a hard contest took place, and in the 
reign of Commodus it was again broken down, and the coun- 
try ravaged up to the very foundations of the wall of Adrian. 
This skirmishing and besieging, building up and breaking 
down of barriers, lasted for nearly a century, during which 
period scarcely a single event transpired in Britain of sufii- 



DEPARTURE OF THE ROMANS. 41 

cient importance to be recorded, though there is every proof 
that the Britons were, in the meantime, making rapid strides 
in civilization; for England rested securely under the guar- 
dianship of the Roman arms. The battles fought at the 
northern barriers disturbed not the tranquillity of the southern 
parts of the island. It was not until the commencement of 
the third century, when old and gouty, and compelled to be 
borne at the head of his army in a litter, that the Emperor 
Severus determined to conquer the Caledonians, and boldly 
sallied out for that purpose beyond the northern frontier. 
His loss was enormous, and between war with the natives, 
and the wearisome labour in making roads, felling forests, 
and draining marshes, which had hitherto been impassable to 
the Roman troops, fifty thousand soldiers were sacrificed. No- 
thing daunted, however, the gouty old emperor still pressed 
onward, until he reached the Frith of Moray, and was struck 
with the difference in the length of the days, and shortness of 
the nights, compared with those in southern latitudes. Saving 
making a few new roads, and receiving the submission of the 
few tribes who chanced to lie in his way, he appears to have 
done nothing towards conquering this hardy race; so he returned 
to Newcastle, and began to build a stronger barrier than any of 
his predecessors had hitherto erected. On the northern side of 
this immense wall, he caused a deep ditch to be dug. about 
thirty-six feet wide, while the wall itself was twelve feet in 
height; thus, from the bottom of the ditch on the northern side 
there rose a barrier about twenty-five feet high, which was also 
further strengthened by a large number of fortifications, and 
above three hundred turrets. But before Severus had well 
completed his gigantic labours, the Caledonians had again over- 
leaped the more northern barrier, and fought their way up to 
the new trenches. The grey-headed old hero vowed vengeance, 
and swore by "Mars the Red," that he would spare neither 
age nor sex. Death, who is sometimes merciful, kindly stepped 
in, and instead of allowing him to swing in his litter towards new 
scenes of slaughter, cut short his contemplated campaign at York, 
about the year two hundred and eleven; and after his death, the 
northern barrier was again given up to the Caledonians. 

A wearisome time must it have been to those old Roman 
legions, who had to keep guard on that long, monotonous wall, 
which went stretching for nearly seventy miles over hill and 



42 



HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 



valley; nothing but a desolate country to look over, or that wide, 
yawning, melancholy ditch to peep into from the battlements, or 
a beacon-fire to light on the top of the turret, as a signal that 
the barbarians were approaching. An occasional skirmish must 
have been a relief to that weary round of every-day life, made 
up in marches from fort to fort, where there was no variety, 
saving in a change of sentries — no relief excepting now and 
then sallying out for forage ; for between the outer and 
inner wall, the whole country seems at this period to have 
been a wilderness — a silent field of death, in which the 
bones of many a brave man were left to bleach in the bleak 
wind, and from which only the croak of the raven and the howl 
of the wolf came upon the long dark midnights that settled 
down over those ancient battlements. Sometimes the bold bar- 
barians sailed round the end of the wall in their wicker boats, 
covered with " black bull's hide," and landed within the Roman 
intrenchments, or spread consternation amongst the British vil- 
lages; but with the exception of an occasional inroad like this, 
the whole of the northern part of the island appears to have 
been quiet for nearly another century, during which the 
Roman arms seem to have become weakened, and the British 
tribes to have given themselves up more to the arts of peace 
than of war. Such privileges as were granted to the Roman 
citizens, were also now extended to the Britons; and under the 
dominion of Caracalla, the successor of Severus, there is but 
little doubt that the southern islanders settled peaceably down 
in their homesteads (now comfortable abodes), and began to be 
somewhat more Romanized in their manners, that marriages 
took place between the Romans and the Britons, and that love 
and peace had now settled down side by side, in those very spots 
which the stormy spirits of Cassivellaunus, Caractacus, and 
Boadicea had formerly passed over. The wheels of the dreaded 
war-chariots seem to have rested on their axles; we scarcely 
meet with the record of a single revolt amongst the native tribes, 
excepting those beyond the wall of Adrian. Through the pages 
of Gildas we catch glimpses of strange miracles, and see the 
shadow of the cross falling over the old druidical altars, but 
nothing appears distinct; and although we may doubt many pas- 
sages in the writings of this our earliest historian, it would be 
uncharitable to the memory of the dead even to entertain a 
thought that he wilfully falsified a single fact. The only marvel 



DEPARTURE OF THE ROMANS. 43 

is, that, living in an age when so few could write — when only- 
common rumours were floating about him — when he was sur- 
rounded with the faint outlines of old traditions, he should 
have piled together so many facts which are borne out by con- 
temporary history. To place no faith in the narrative of Grildas, 
is to throw overboard the writings of the venerable Bede, and 
float over the sea of time for many a long year, without a single 
record to guide us. Although we have confidence in many of these 
ancient chronicles of the undefended dead, we shall pass on 
to undisputed facts, founded upon their faint records ; for we 
have scarcely any other light to guide us through these dark 
caverns, which the ever-working hand of slow-consuming Time 
hath hollowed out. 

About the commencement of the fourth century, a new enemy 
made its appearance upon the British coast, and though it only 
at first flitted about from place to place like a shadow, it at last 
fixed itself firmly upon the soil, never again to be wholly 
obliterated. This was the Saxon — not at that period the only 
enemy which beside the Caledonians invaded Britain, for there 
were others — Scandinavian pirates, ever ready with their long 
ships to dart across the British channel upon our coast. These 
invaders were kept at bay for a time by a bold naval commander 
called Carausius, supposed himself originally to have been a 
pirate, and occasionally to have countenanced the inroads of the 
enemy ; and on this account, or from the dreaded strength of his 
powerful fleet, a command was issued from Home to put him to 
death. He, however, continued for some time to keep the 
mastery of the British Channel, defied Rome and all its powers, 
assumed the chief command over Britain, and was at last 
stabbed by the hand of his own confidential minister at York. 
Allectus, Constantine, Chlorus, and Constantine the Great, 
follow each other in succession, each doing their allotted work, 
then fading away into Egyptian darkness, scarcely leaving a 
record behind beyond their names ; for the eyes of the Roman 
eagle were now beginning to wax dim, and a fading light was 
fast settling down upon the Eternal city, and gloomy and 
ominous shadows were ever seen flitting athwart the golden disc 
whose rounded glory had so long fallen unclouded upon the 
Imperial city. Even in Britain the wall of Severus had jbeen 
broken through, a Roman general slain, and London itself 
pillaged by these hordes of barbarians. The plunderers were, 



44 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

however, attacked by Theodosius, the spoils retaken, and the 
inhabitants, whom they were driving before them in chains, 
liberated. These assailants are supposed to have been mingled 
bodies of the Picts, Scots, and Saxons, and the addition of 
Saxonicus was added to the name of Theodosius, in honour of 
this victory. 

The Roman soldiers in Britain now began to elect their own 
generals, and to shake off their allegiance to the Emperor : 
one undoubted cause for so few legions being found in England 
at this period, and a proof that that once mighty arm had already 
grown too weak to strike any effective blow in the distant terri- 
tories. Chief amongst those elected to this high rank in Britain 
stood Maximus, who might doubtless have obtained undisputed 
possession of the British Island, had not his ambition led him to 
grasp at that portion of the Roman empire which was in the 
possession of Gratian. To accomplish this, he crossed over to 
Gaul with nearly all his island force, thus leaving Britain almost 
defenceless, and at the mercy of the Picts, and Scots, and 
Saxons, who were ever on the look-out for plunder. He at- 
tained his object, and lost his life, having been betrayed and put 
to death by Theodosius the Great, under whose sway the eastern 
and western empire of Rome was again united. Alaric the 
Goth was now pouring his armed legions into Italy, and to 
meet this overwhelming force, Germany, and Gaul, and Britain 
were drained of their troops, and our island again left a prey to 
the old invaders, who no doubt reaped another rich harvest; 
for the Britons, no longer able to defend themselves against 
these numerous hordes of barbarians, were compelled to apply 
for assistance to Rome. Probably some time elapsed before the 
required aid was sent, for we cannot conceive that Stilicho 
would part with a single legion until after he had won the 
battle of Pollentia, and seen the routed army of Alaric in full 
retreat. Such was the penalty Britain paid for her progress in 
civilization, — the flower of her youth were carried off to fight 
and fall in foreign wars, — and when she most needed the powerful 
arms of her native sons to protect her, they were attacking the 
enemies of Rome in a distant land, and leaving their own 
island-home a prey to new invaders. Nor was this all : when 
the arms of Rome had grown too feeble to protect Britain, — when 
beside their own legions, the country had been drained of almost 
every available soldier — when in every way it was weakened, and 



DEPARTURE OF THE ROMANS. 45 

scarcely possessed the power to make any defence, it was de- 
serted by the Romans, left almost prostrate at the feet of Pictish, 
Scottish, and Saxon hordes, either to sue for mercy on the best 
terms that could be obtained, or to perish, from its very helpless- 
ness. Alas ! Rome could no longer defend herself, her glory 
had all but departed ; and the Britons, who for about two 
centuries had never been allowed to defend themselves, and 
were now almost strangers to arms, were left to combat a force 
which many a time had driven back the Roman legions. 

The few Roman troops that yet remained in Britain began 
to elect and depose their own commanders at pleasure. They 
first chose Marcus, allowed him to rule for a short period, then 
put him to death. Gratian was next elevated to power, bowed 
down to and obeyed for three or four months, then murdered. 
Their next choice fell upon Constantine, influenced, it is said, 
by his high-sounding name; and it almost appears, by his carry- 
ing over his forces to Gaul, as Maximus had done before him, 
and aiming at a wider stretch of territory, that he scarcely 
thought Britain worth reigning over. Numbers of the brave 
British youth were sacrificed to his ambition; and England seems 
at this time to have only been a great nursery for foreign wars. 
Gerontius, who appears to have been a British chief, now rose 
to some influence, and basely betrayed his countrymen by 
entering into a league with the Picts, and Scots, and Saxons, and 
no doubt sharing the plunder they took from the wretched 
Britons; he also appears to have carried an armed force out of 
the island, probably raised by means of the bargain he made 
with the barbarians; he was pursued into Spain by the troops 
of the Roman emperor, Honorius; fled into a house for shelter 
after the battle; it was set fire to, and he perished in the flames 
— a dreadful death, yet almost merited by such a traitorous act 
as, first selling his country to these northern robbers and pirates, 
carrying off those who were able to protect her, and then 
leaving his kindred a prey to the barbarians. The Britons, in 
their misery, again applied for help to Rome : Honorius could 
render none, so he sent them such a letter as a cold friend, 
wearied out by repeated applications, sometimes pens to a poor, 
broken-down bankrupt; he could do nothing for them, they 
must now assist themselves; he forgave them the allegiance 
they owed, but had not a soldier to spare. So were the 
Britons blessed with a liberty which was of no use to them; 



46 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

they were left to shift for themselves, like an old slave, who, 
instead of being a help, becomes an encumbrance to his task- 
master, who, to get rid of him, " God blesses him," and turns him 
out a free man, with the privilege to beg, or starve, or perish, 
unless in his old helpless age he can provide for himself. Not 
that the Roman emperor was so unkind in himself; he would 
perhaps have assisted the Britons if he could; he was but one 
in a long chain of evils, and that the last, and least powerful, 
which, by disarming the Britons, and draining off all their strength 
to feed other channels, had reduced them to their present help- 
less state. True, they had now temples, and baths, and pil- 
lared porticoes, and splendid galleries, and mosaic pavements, 
and beautifully shaped earthen-vessels; had some knowledge of 
Roman literature, and, above all, Roman freedom. Alas! alas! 
their old forest fortresses, and neglected war-chariots, and rude 
huts, guarded by the dangerous morass, and quaking bog, 
would now have stood them in better stead; their splendid 
mansions were but temptations to the barbarians, their broad, 
firm roads so many open doors to the robbers. They may not 
inaptly be compared to some poor family, left in a large and 
splendid mansion in some dangerous neighbourhood, which the 
owner has deserted, with all his retinue and wealth, for fear 
of the thieves and murderers who were ever assailing him, 
leaving only behind a book or two for their amusement, a 
few useless statues to gaze upon, and but little beside great 
gaping galleries, whose very echoes were alarming to the new 
possessors. Sir Walter Scott has beautifully said, when 
speaking of the Romans leaving the Britons in this defenceless 
state, that " Their parting exhortation to them to stand in 
their own defence, and their affectation of having, by aban- 
doning the island, restored them to freedom, were as cruel as it 
would be to dismiss a domesticated bird or animal to shift for 
itself, after having been from its birth fed and supplied by the 
hand of man."* Strange retribution, that whilst the sun of 
Rome should from this period sink never to rise again in its 
former glory, that of Britain should slowly emerge from the 
storm and clouds which threatened nothing but future darkness, 
and burst at last into a golden blaze, whose brightness now gilds 
the remotest regions of the earth. 

* History of Scotland, vol. i. p. 9. 



DEPARTURE OF THE ROMANS. 47 

But Britain had still a few sons left, worthy of the names 
which their brave forefathers bore; the blood of Boadicea still 
flowed in their veins; it might have been thinned by the luxury 
of the Roman bath, and deadened by long inactivity, but 
though it only ran sluggishly, it was still the same as had 
roused the strong hearts of Cassivellaunus and Caractacus 
when the Roman trumpets brayed defiance at the gates of their 
forest cities. There was still liberty or death left to struggle 
for; the Roman freedom they threw down in disdain, and 
trampled upon the solemn mockery; and when they once cast off 
this poisoned garment, they arose like men inspired with a new 
life; they seemed to look about as if suddenly aroused from 
some despairing dream — as if astonished to hear their old island 
waves rolling upon a beach unploughed by the keel of a Roman 
galley — as if wondering that they had not before broken 
through those circumscribed lines, and forts, and ramparts, 
while they were yet guarded with the few Roman sentinels; 
they saw the sunshine streaming upon their broad meadows, and 
old forests, and green hills, and tall pale-faced cliffs, turning to gold 
every ripple that came from afar to embrace the sparkling sands 
of the white beach, and they felt that such a beautiful country 
was never intended to become the home of slaves. They shed 
a few natural tears when they remembered how many of their 
sons and daughters had been borne over those billows in the 
gilded galleys of the invaders; they recalled the faces they had 
seen depart for ever over the lessening waves; the mother 
weeping over her son; the manacled father, whose " eyes burnt 
and throbbed, but had no tears;'' the pale-cheeked British 
maidens, who sat with their faces buried in their hands, as, 
amid the distant sound of Roman music, their lovers were hurried 
away to leave their bones bleaching upon some foreign shore; 
and they would have fallen down and prostrated themselves 
upon the ground for very sorrow, had not the thunder of their 
northern invaders rung with a startling sound upon their ears, 
and they felt thankful that much work yet remained to be done, 
and that they were now left to fight their own battles, even as 
their forefathers had fought, in the dearly remembered days of 
their ancient glory. 

With a population so thinned as it must have been by the heavy 
drainage made from time to time from the flower of its youth, we 
can readily conceive how difficult it was to defend the wall which 



48 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

Severus had erected, after the departure of the Romans. But 
we- cannot imagine that the Britons would hesitate to abandon a 
position which they could no longer maintain, or waste their 
strength at an outer barrier when the enemy had already 
marched far into the country. On this point the venerable 
Gildas must have been misinformed, and the narrative of Zosi- 
mus is, beyond doubt, the correct one. From his history it is 
evident that the Britons rose up and boldly defended themselves 
from- the northern invaders; they also deposed the Roman rulers 
that still lingered in the British cities, and who, no longer over- 
awed by the dictates of the emperor, doubtless hoped to estab- 
lish themselves as kings, or chiefs, amongst the different tribes 
they had so long held in thrall. But the Britons threw off this 
foreign yoke, and at last rooted out all that remained of the 
power of Rome. Thus, beside the Picts and Scots, who were 
ever pouring in their ravaging hordes from the north, and the 
Saxons, who came with almost every favourable breeze which 
blew, to the British shore, there was an old and stubborn foe to 
uproot, and one which had for above four centuries retained a 
tenacious hold of our island soil. Many of the Romans who 
remained were in possession of splendid mansions, and large 
estates, and as the imperial city was now over-run with bands of 
barbarians, they were loath to leave a land abounding with plenty, 
for a country then shaken to its very centre by the thunder of 
war. Though not clearly stated, there is strong reason for believ- 
ing that these very Romans, who were so reluctant to quit Britain, 
connived at the ravages of the Picts and Scots, as if hoping, by 
their aid, once more to establish themselves in the island. 

This was a terrible time for the struggling Britons — it was 
no longer a war in which offers of peace were made, and hos- 
tages received, but a contest between two powers, for the very 
soil on which they trod. This the islanders knew, and though 
often sorely depressed and hardly driven, they still continued 
to look the storm in the face. Every man had now his 
own household to fight for — the Roman party was led on by 
Aurelius Ambrosius, the British headed by Vortigern; a name 
which they long remembered and detested, for the misery it 
brought into the land. As for Rome, she had no longer 
leisure to turn her eye upon the distant struggle, for Attila 
and his Goths were now baying at her heels; there was a cry 
of wailing and lamentation in her towered streets, and the 



DEPARTURE OF THE ROMANS. 49 

wide landscape which stretched at her imperial feet, was black- 
ened by the fire of the destroyer. She had no time, either to 
look on or send assistance to either party; and when .iEtius had 
read the petition sent by the Britons, who complained that " the 
barbarians chase us into the sea; the sea throws us back upon 
the barbarians; and we have only the hard choice left us of 
perishing by the sword or by the waves," he doubtless cast it 
aside, and exclaimed, " I also am beset by a host of enemies, and 
cannot help you : " a grim smile, perhaps, for a moment light- 
ing up his features, as he recalled the Romans who, false to their 
country, had basely lingered in the British island, and thus 
deserted him in the hour of need; and as the stern shadow again 
settled down upon his features, he consoled himself for a mo- 
ment by thinking that they also had met with their reward — 
then again prepared to defend himself against the overwhelming 
force of Attila. 

Harassed on all sides, the Britons now began to look to 
other quarters for aid, for they appear to have assembled at 
last under one head, and to have been guided in their course 
by Vortigern. The character of this ancient British king 
is placed in so many various lights by the historians who 
have recorded the events of this obscure period, that it is im- 
possible to get at the truth. What he did, is tolerably clear; 
nor are we altogether justified in ascribing his motives only to 
self advancement; pressed within and without by powerful ene- 
mies, he, no doubt, sought assistance from the strongest side, 
though it is not evident that he ever made any formal offer. He 
must have had some acquaintance with the Saxons, whom he 
enlisted in his cause — it is improbable that he would hail an 
enemy, standing out at sea with his ships — invite him to land 
and attack a foe, with whom this very stranger had been 
leagued. One man might have done so, but what Vortigern did 
had, doubtless, the sanction of the British chiefs who were as- 
sembled around him at the time. They must have had strong 
faith in the Saxons, and it is not improbable that some of 
them had been allowed to settle in the Isle of Thanet — had 
already aided the Britons in their wars against the Romans, 
who were located in the island, as well as against their northern 
invaders, before they were intrusted with the defence of Britain. 
But we must first glance at the England of that day before we 
introduce our Saxon ancestors — the " grey forefathers " of our 

VOL. I. E 



50 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

native land, whose very language outlived that of their Norman 
conquerors, and who blotted out almost every trace of the 
ancient Britons by their power — " A tribe which, in the days 
of Ptolemy," says Sharon Turner, in his admirable history of 
the Anglo-Saxons, "just darkened the neck of the peninsula of 
Jutland, and three inconsiderable islands in its neighbourhood. 
One of the obscure tribes whom Providence selected, and trained 
to form the nobler nations of France, Germany, and England, 
and who have accomplished their distinguished destiny." These 
stand dimly arrayed upon the distant shore of time, and calmly 
await our coming. 



CHAPTER VII. 

BKITAIN AFTEE THE EOMAN PERIOD. 

What, though those golden eagles of the sun 
Have gone for ever, and we are alone, 
Shall we sit here and mourn ? No ! look around, 
There still are in the sky trails of their glory, 
And in the clouds traces where they have been.— 
Their wings no longer shadow us with fear. 
Let us then soar, and from this grovelling state 
Eise up, and be what they have never heen. 

Ode to Hope. 

Britain, after the departure of the Romans, was no longer a 
country covered every way with wild waving woods, dangerous 
bogs, and vast wastes of reedy and unprofitable marshes. 
Smooth green pastures, where flocks and herds lowed and 
bleated, and long slips of corn waved in the summer sunshine, 
and fruit-trees which in spring were hung with white and 
crimson blossoms, and whose branches in autumn bowed be- 
neath the weight of heavy fruitage, now swelled above the 
swampy waste, and gave a cheerful look to the grassy glade 
which had made room for the bright sunshine to enter into the 
very heart of those gloomy old forests. Walled towns, also, 
heaved up above the landscape, and great broad brown roads went 
stretching for miles through a country over which, a few cen- 
turies before, a mounted horseman would have foundered. The 
dreamy silence which once reigned for weary miles over the lone- 



BRITAIN AFTER THE ROMAN PERIOD. 51 

some woodland, was now broken by the hum of human voices; 
and the ancient oaks, which for many a silent year had only over- 
shadowed the lairs of beasts of the chase, now overhung pleasant 
footpaths, or stretched along the sides of well-frequented roads, 
sure guides to the lonely wayfarer that he could no longer mis- 
take his course from town to town. Though many a broad 
bog, and long league of wood and wilderness still lay on either 
hand, yet, every here and there, the home of man rose up amid 
the waste, showing that the stir of life had begun to break the 
sleep of those solitudes. Instead of the shadowy avenue of trees 
which marked the entrance to their forest fortresses, lofty 
arches now spanned the roads which opened into their walled 
streets, and above the roofs of their houses tall temples towered 
in all the richness of Roman architecture, dedicated to the 
classical gods and goddesses whose sculptured forms graced the 
lofty domes of the imperial city. Few and far between, in the 
dim groves, whose silent shadows remained undisturbed, the 
tall grass climbed and drooped about the neglected altar of the 
druids, and on the huge stone where the holy fire once burned, 
the grey lichen and the green moss now grew. Even the Roman 
sentinel, as he paced to and fro behind the lofty battlement, 
sometimes halted in the midst of his measured march, and leaned 
on his spear to listen to the low "Hallelujah" which came float- 
ing with faint sound upon the air, as if fearful of awakening the 
spirit of some angry idolator. In the stars which pave the 
blue floor of heaven, men began to trace the form of the cross, 
and to see the spirit of the dove in the white moonlight that 
threw its silver upon the face of the waters, for Britain already 
numbered amongst her slaughtered sons those who had suffered 
martrydom for the love they bore to their crucified Redeemer. 
Under the shadow of the Roman eagles had marched soldiers, 
proud that they bore on their hearts the image of the cross of 
Christ. In spite of the decree of Diocletian, the Gospel sound 
still spread, and around the bleeding head of the British martyr 
St. Alban, there shone a glory which eclipsed all the ancient 
splendour of Rome. The mountains, the rivers, and the ancient 
oaks, were soon to echo back the worship of the true God, and 
no longer to remain the objects of idolatry. The unholy 
doctrine of the druids was ere long to be unmasked, and instead 
of the gloomy gods which frowned down in stone amid the 
darksome groves, and whose dead eyes ever looked upon the 

E 2 



52 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

melancholy water that murmured around the altars on which 
they stood, the light of a benign countenance was about to break 
in beauty over the British isle, and a voice to be heard, pro- 
claiming peace and good-will to all mankind. For the Picts and 
Scots had already fallen back affrighted before the holy Hymns 
of Zion, and been more startled by the loud Hallelujah chaunted 
by the soldiers of Christ, who were led on by Germanus, than 
ever they were by the loud braying of the brazen trumpets 
of Rome. British ladies, ever foremost to tread the paths of 
religion and virtue, had boldly heralded the way, and in spite 
of the lowering and forbidding looks of the druids, Graecina 
and Claudia had already knelt before the throne of the True 
God. Though the vanguard came heavily up amid cloud and 
storm, Hope, and Love, and Mercy, rode fearlessly upon the 
wings of the tempest. 

It is but just to the memory of those ancient Roman invaders, 
that we should confess they never reduced to slavery and total 
subjection the tribes which they conquered; that, generally, in 
return for the taxes they imposed, and the expense to which they 
put the invaded country, they instructed the inhabitants in the 
Roman arts — and although they humbled their martial spirit, and 
left the conquered tribes less able to defend themselves, still the 
signs of civilization everywhere marked their course. Beside 
being brave generals, the Roman commanders were also able 
statesmen; nor had the Britons for centuries before, nor did they 
for centuries after, sleep in that peaceful security which they 
enjoyed under the sway of the wise Agricola. Though the 
conquerors taxed their corn, they taught the Britons a bet- 
ter method of cultivating it; though they made heavy levies 
upon their cattle, they were the first to set them the example 
of reclaiming many an acre of pasturage from the hitherto use- 
less marsh and forest. They instructed them in planting the 
fruit-trees, from which the tithe was taken; and, in addition to 
orchards, pointed out to them the art of dressing vineyards. 
Fifteen hundred years or more may have chilled our climate, 
but in those days the purple and bunchy grape drooped around 
many a British homestead. The chief towns were governed 
by Roman laws; London and Yerulamium were already cele- 
brated cities, and the latter reared high its lofty towers, and 
temples, and theatres, in all the architectural grandeur of Ro- 
man art. For centuries after did many of these majestic monu- 



BRITAIN AFTER THE ROMAN PERIOD. 53 

ments remain, even when the skeleton of the once mighty Rome 
had all but crumbled into dust, as if to proclaim that the last 
work of those all-dreaded conquerors was the civilization of 
Britain. They divided our island into five provinces, appointed 
governors and officers to administer justice, and collect taxes in 
each division. Over all these a chief ruler was placed, who 
was accountable for his actions to the Roman emperor, and 
whose written orders were given to him in a green- covered book, 
emblazoned with golden castles, when he was installed in the 
dignity of his office — as, in almost all colonies, there were doubts 
less many who, " clothed in authority," ruled with an iron hand 
over their fellow-men; not that such always escaped — for, as 
we have before stated, the revolt of Boadicea was caused by the 
oppression of Roman rulers, and dreadful was the reckoning of 
her vengeance. 

We have already had occasion to remark how easily the Ro^ 
mans broke through the ancient British fortresses, and how fre- 
quently the Picts and Scots made inroads through the ramparts 
erected by the Romans. Saving, however, in such works as appear 
to have been hastily thrown up by the Britons, when they re- 
treated into their native forests, they displayed considerable skill 
in the erection of their strongholds. They occasionally constructed 
high walls, with blocks of granite five or six feet long, and these 
they piled together without the aid of cement, digging a deep 
ditch outside, to make access more difficult; and as this fortress 
was built in the form of a circle, and the wall was of sufficient 
thickness to permit half a dozen men to walk on it abreast, it 
must, although not of such extent, have been as difficult to 
storm as the barriers thrown up by the Romans. The huge 
stone, supposed to weigh upwards of seven hundred tons, which 
is placed on the points of two rocks in Cornwall, and the 
massy blocks raised and piled on each other at Stonehenge, 
show that, ages before the Roman invasion, Britain was inha- 
bited by a tribe whose knowledge of the power of leverage, 
and skill in removing such gigantic blocks from the distant 
quarries, were only surpassed by the builders of the Egyptian 
Pyramids. No wonder that a race possessed of such natural 
genius was, under tuition of the Roman architects, enabled to 
produce such a class of workmen, that a demand was made for 
them even in Gaul, and that the skill of the British me- 
chanic was in that early age acknowledged on the continent, 



54 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

Industry led to wealth, and the latter to luxuries to which 
the simple Britons had, before the Roman period, been entire 
strangers ; instead of the cloak of skin, and the dyed sagum, 
those who dwelt in towns now wore the Roman toga, and the 
British ladies began to decorate themselves with jewels of gold, 
silver, and precious stones, instead of their own island pearls, 
once so celebrated as to cause even a grave historian to attri- 
bute the invasion of Julius Csesar to no other motive than a 
wish to fill his galley with them. They now wore bracelets 
and collars of gold, and amongst the imports to Britain, we find 
mention of ivory bridles, chains of gold, cups of amber, and 
drinking -vessels of glass, made in the most elegant forms. A 
great change had taken place in the habits of these ancient in- 
dwellers of the forest, whose eyes in former days had seldom 
been gladdened by a sight of such treasures, unless when brought, 
now and then, by some warrior from the Gaulish wars, to be 
looked on and wondered at, or caught sight of for a moment 
amongst the coveted hoards of the druids. We have it on 
record, that the waist of queen Boadicea was encircled by a 
chain, or girdle of gold ; and shortly after we have proof that 
nearly the whole of the British tribes were in subjection under 
the Roman power — clear evidence that wealth, refinement, and 
civilization had softened down the rugged and hardy sinews 
of war — that the old warriors of the wild woods were better 
adapted for the struggles of battle than their sons who had put 
on the Roman toga, and reared their homes within the limits 
of walled cities. As it was with the Britons, so it was with the 
Saxons — they also became less courageous, as they grew more 
civilized. And here a grave question naturally intrudes itself 
into our narrative, which to answer aright must either yield in 
favour of a state of barbarism, or pull down that great idol 
called a hero — though there are many exceptions on record to 
uphold the latter, some of which we have already instanced, as 
in Cassivellanus and Caractacus. 

It is apparent that the more southern inhabitants of the Bri- 
tish island had by this time adopted the Roman custom of in- 
terring their dead. Formerly the northern tribes did but little 
more than place the body in the naked earth, cover it up, and 
mark the spot by a pile of stones; and that rude monument was 
left to point out the last resting-place of the departed. The 
more southern tribes erected huge barrows above their dead, 



BRITAIN AFTER THE ROMAN PERIOD. 55 

burying with them all that was considered most valuable, arti- 
cles of gold and silver, weapons used in the war and in the 
chase, and even the body of the favourite dog, when he died, 
was not considered unworthy of sharing his master's grave. 
Many of these mounds of earth were immense, and in several 
cases it is clear that the soil which formed them had been brought 
from a considerable distance, perhaps from the very spot which had 
been marked by the valorous though now forgotten deeds of the 
dead. These ancient sepulchres varied greatly in size and shape. 
Those which appear to have contained the remains of the earlier 
inhabitants of our island, were frequently above a hundred yards 
in length; and if, as it has been supposed, each follower brought 
his wicker basket of earth to empty upon the chieftain's 
grave, or the high-piled hillock was the work of the friends of 
the departed, though so many long centuries have elapsed, they 
yet speak of the respect in which those early warriors were held. 
Sometimes the body was placed in a cist, with the legs drawn 
back towards the head, and this position of burying seems to have 
been adopted at a very remote period by the Britons. Some- 
times the trunk of a large tree was cut up into a proportionate 
length, hewn hollow, and the body placed within it. This again 
appears to have been a custom of very ancient date. They were 
also in the habit of burning the bodies of the dead — of collecting 
the burnt bones and placing them in the lowest bed of the bar- 
row, then piling the stupendous mound above the ashes. Those 
tribes that became more Romanised appear to have followed the 
custom of their conquerors of burning the bodies, and collecting 
the ashes in urns; many of these have been discovered in what 
are called the Roman-British barrows, which display but indif- 
ferent workmanship. Others which have been dug out of old 
Roman burying -places show much elegance both in their forms 
and ornaments. With these have also been found mingled incense 
and drinking cups of the most beautiful patterns. The Britons 
appear to have had no common grave-yard; one barrow seems to 
have covered the remains of a chief, another that of his wife and 
children; perchance those who fell in the same battle were some- 
times interred together, or it may be that the lesser hillocks 
covered the remains of the vassals, hemming around the huge 
barrow under which the chieftain slept, as if to protect him even 
in death — a silent guard surrounding his remains, as when living 
they had rallied about him. What were the forms of their 



56 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

solemn processions — what ceremonies they used while burying 
their dead — what heathen prayers they offered up to their rude 
gods, or what war-hymns they chaunted over the remains of their 
chiefs, we know not. The snows of nearly two thousand win- 
ters have fallen, whitened, and melted upon, their graves, but 
whether the latter were interred amid the deep war-cry of the 
tribe, or consigned to the earth amid tears and sorrowful sounds, 
we can never know. The glass beads, the amulets, and breast- 
plates of gold — the spear-heads of bronze and flint, the rude 
necklaces of shells, and the pins and ornaments which we have 
discovered, throw no light upon the name, rank, or history of 
the dead. 

The barbarous custom of painting or tatooing their skins soon 
grew into disfavour as the Britons became civilized. They began 
to find other uses for the dye which they extracted from the herb 
called woad, and instead of distinguishing themselves by the 
hideous forms of beasts or reptiles which they were wont to 
puncture and imprint upon their bodies, they now bore the marks 
of their rank in the form of their costume, and sought for their 
renown in the plaudits of other men. They began to look for 
their leaders amongst the ancient families, and to trace back 
their genealogies to their earliest heroes. This ended all Ro- 
man claims, for they refused to grant any land to such as had 
not descended from the primitive tribes; it led also to much 
dissension, to many heart-burnings and bitter jealousies; family 
was divided against family, and tribe against tribe; petty kings 
sprang up in every province; there was much blood shed — more 
to be spilt; and as Vortigern alone had maintained his claim, he 
was determined to support his position at any sacrifice. Whe- 
ther Hengist and Horsa came on a mission of peace, or as traders 
or pirates, or were driven by a storm upon the coast, or were exiled 
from their country, are matters of no moment. They were 
hired — their business was to fight — they were paid for doing so 
— they accepted the terms offered by the British king, acquitted 
themselves manfully, and finally were the means of establishing 
the Saxons in Britain. To the commencement of this period we 
have now arrived, and the next who pass through the gate of 
history are our old English forefathers, the Saxons. 



57 



Ww Jbaxcm Snbasion. 



CHAPTEE VIII. 

THE ANCIENT SAXONS. 

The stupendously holy gods considered these things : 

They gave names to the night and to the twilight ; 

They called the morning and mid -day so. 

There sat an old man towards the east in a wood of iron, 

Where he nourished the sons of Fenris. 

Every one of these grew up prodigious — a giant form, — 

The sons of the two brothers inhabit the vast mansions of the winds. 

A hall stands brighter than the sun. 

Covered with gold in Gimle. — The Volupsa. 

The Saxons were a German or Gothic race, possessing an 
entirely different language to that of the Celts or ancient Bri- 
tons; and although they do not appear to have attracted the same 
attention as the other tribes, they were, doubtless, settled at 
a very early period in Europe. At the time when they begin 
to stand forth so prominently in the pages of history, they occu- 
pied the peninsula of Jutland, now a portion of Denmark, with 
two or three neighbouring islands, known by the names of 
North Strande, Busen, and Heligoland, all situate near the mouth 
of the Elbe. As they, however, consisted of three tribes — 
namely, the Jutes, the Angles, and the Saxons — they probably, 
at a former period, stretched over a much larger surface of 
country, the boundaries of which it is now difficult to define. 
As early as the time of Ptolemy, a branch of this ancient Scy- 
thian race was denominated the Saxons. They claimed their 
descent from Odin, probably some old and celebrated warrior, 
whose deeds grew up under magnified traditions, until at last he 
was dignified with the title of their god. Like the Britons, 
they were a brave and fearless race, delighting in plunder and 
slaughter, ever choosing the most dangerous and perilous paths, 
loving the roll of the wave, and the roar of the storm, and gene- 



58 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

rally landing under a gloomy and tempestuous sky, to surprise 
and attack the enemy. Their arms were a sharp sword, a keen- 
pointed dagger, a tall spear, and a ponderous battle-axe, all made 
of good iron, But the most dreaded weapon they wielded seems 
to have been a large heavy hammer, from which projected a num- 
ber of sharp-pointed spikes. This fearful instrument was the 
terror of their enemies, and no helmet was proof against its blows. 
Their chiefs wore a kind of scaly armour, which appears to 
have been formed of iron rings, locked together upon a tight- 
fitting coat, or leathern doublet. The rims and bosses of their 
shields were of iron, while the body was sometimes formed of 
wood, and covered with leather. Many of these shields were 
large enough to protect the whole form, and as they were convex, 
no doubt the point of the enemy's weapon would glide off, unless 
it was struck firmly into the centre; thus they formed a kind of 
moveable bulwark, behind which the warrior sheltered himself 
in battle. They believed that the souls of those who bravely 
perished on the hard-fought field were at once wafted into the 
halls of Valhalla, and the terrible heaven which they pictured 
in a future state consisted in those dreadful delights so conge- 
nial to their brutal natures while on earth — being made up of a 
succession of conflicts and struggles, cleaving of helmets and 
hacking of limbs; and that when the twilight deepened over 
those awful halls, every warrior was again healed of his wounds; 
that they then sat down to their grim and hideous banquet, 
where they fed upon a great boar, whose flesh never diminished, 
however much they ate, and when they had satiated themselves 
with these savoury morsels, which they cut off with their dag- 
gers, they washed them down with deep draughts of mead, which 
they drank out of the skulls of their cowardly enemies. Into 
those halls the brave alone were admitted — the craven, and the 
coward, and those who fell not in the red and reeking ranks of 
battle, were doomed to dwell in the dark regions of Niflheim, 
where Hela, the terrible, reigned; where gaunt Famine stalked 
like a shadow beneath the vaulted dome; where Anguish ever 
writhed upon her hard bed, and dark Delay kept watch against 
the sombre doors which she never opened. Such were the 
eternal abodes those barbarians believed they should enter after 
death — the realms which their stormy spirits would soar into, 
when they could no longer guide their barks over the shadows 
of the overhanging rocks — when the tempestuous sea no longer 



THE ANCIENT SAXONS. 59 

bore them upon the thunder of its billows, and cast them upon 
some distant coast, to revel in carnage and slaughter; — it was 
then that they turned their dying eyes to the coveted halls of 
Valhalla, and that huge banquet-table on which the grisly boar 
lay stretched, surrounded by drinking-cups formed of human 
skulls. 

Those who had not courage enough to win an entrance into 
these envied realms by their own bravery, put one of their 
slaves to death, considering that such a sacrifice was acceptable 
to Odin, and a sure passport into this ideal world. They, how- 
ever, believed that Valhalla would at last pass away; Odin him- 
self perish; that the good and the brave would inhabit another 
heaven, called Gimle; and the evil and the cowardly be con- 
signed to a more awful place of punishment than that over which 
Hela reigned; that the gods would sit in judgment; that Sur- 
tur, the black one, would appear; and an evil spirit be liberated 
from the dark cave in which he had been for ages bound with 
chains of iron. That for three years increasing snow would fall 
from all quarters of the world, and during this long winter there 
would be no interim of summer, neither would any green thing 
grow, but all mankind would perish by each other's hands. That 
two huge monsters would appear; one of which would devour 
the sun, the other, the moon; that mountains and trees would 
be torn up, and the earth shaken to its deepest foundations. 
That the stars would be blotted out of heaven, and one wide 
shoreless sea cover the whole world, over which a solitary ship 
would float, built of the nails of dead men, and steered by the 
tall giant Hrymer. Then would the huge wolf Fenris open his 
enormous mouth, the lower jaw of which would touch the earth, 
the upper the heaven, over which a serpent would breathe 
poison, while the sons of Muspell rode forward, led by the black 
Surtur. A blazing fire, spreading out its myriad tongues of 
flame, would burn before and behind him; his sword would 
glitter like the sun, and the bridge which spanned across heaven, 
be broken. Towards a large plain would these terrible forces 
move, followed by Fenris, the wolf. The brazen trumpet of 
Heimdal would ring out such a startling peal, as would awaken 
the gods, and cause the mighty ash of Ygdrasil to tremble. 
Odin would put on his golden helmet, and all the gods rise up in 
arms, and after the wolf had devoured him, and its jaws had been 
rent asunder by Vidar, the whole universe would be destroyed. 



60 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

Such a creed as this was calculated to nourish and keep alive the 
most benighted superstitions amongst its believers. Thus we find 
them drawing omens from the flight and singing of birds, placing 
their trust in good and evil days, and considering the full or new 
moon as the most favourable seasons in which to put into opera- 
tion any important plan. They were influenced by the moving 
of the clouds, and directed by the course of the winds; and from 
the entrails of the victims sacrificed, they drew their auguries. 
The breastplates they wore were imperfect, unless the smith 
who forged them muttered a charm while he wielded his pon- 
derous hammer. Even the graves of dead men were fre- 
quented, and those who slept their last sleep were intreated to 
answer them. They judged of the fate of a battle by seizing 
an enemy, and compelling him to fight with one of their own 
race. From the branches of the oak they cut short twigs, 
marked them, then scattered them at random upon a white gar- 
ment, and while the priest looked upward, he took those on which 
his hand chanced to alight, and if they proved to be those on which 
the favourite mark was impressed, it was considered a good omen. 
They rode out the perilous tempest on the deep with better 
heart if, on the departure of their bark from the stormy beach, 
some priestess, with her hair blown back, stood upon the giddy 
headland, and chaunted the mystic rhyme which they believed 
would waft them, more safely than the most favourable breeze, to 
the distant shore. Even through the long night of time we can 
picture her standing upon the dizzy edge of the rock, while the 
white-winged sea-gull wheeled and screamed above her head; 
with the subdued thunder of the hoarse waves ever rolling at 
her feet — her drapery blown aside, and her wan thin lips mov- 
ing; while they, tugging at the long oar with their brawny 
arms and bowed heads, sent up a silent prayer to the god of the 
storm. 

Such were our forefathers — men who would startle at the stir- 
ring of a leaf, or the shooting of a star, yet brave enough to rush 
upon the point of a spear with a flushed cheek and a bright eye, 
and who could look death full in the face without a feeling of fear. 
Nor would it be difficult to point out, even in our own day, 
numbers of superstitious signs and omens, which are as implicitly 
believed in by the peasantry of the present age, as they were 
by the ancient Saxons during this dark period of our history. 
The chattering of a magpie, the croaking of a raven, the howling 



THE ANCIENT SAXONS. 61 

of a dog in the night, a winding-sheet in the candle, or a hollow 
cinder leaping out of the fire upon the hearth, are even now held 
amongst our superstitious countrymen as ominous of ill-luck, sick- 
ness, or death. Scarcely an obscure English province is with- 
out its wise-man, or cunning fortune-teller, those lingering 
remains of the Wicca of the Saxons, which have descended 
to us through the long lapse of nearly two thousand years, 
in spite of the burnings and other executions which were so 
common in our country only two or three centuries ago, when 
not to believe in witchcraft would have been held a crime 
equal to Atheism, by our more enlightened and comparatively 
modern forefathers. 

The temple erected to their war-god, in their own country, 
appears to have been spacious and magnificent. On the top of 
a marble column stood this idol, in the figure of a tall, armed 
warrior, bearing a banner in his right hand, on which a red rose 
was emblazoned, while in his left he held a balance. His helmet 
was surmounted with a cock ; on his breastplate a bear was en- 
graven, while on the shield which was suspended from his 
shoulder was the image of a lion, upon a ground of flowers. 
Here, women divined, and men sacrificed, and into the battle 
was this warlike image borne by the priest; for as they could 
not trust themselves upon the sea without a charm being first 
muttered, so in the field did they require the image of their 
idol to countenance the contest. To this grim deity did they 
offer up their captives, and even those of their own tribe who 
had fled, and turned their backs upon the fight, for they looked 
upon cowardice as the greatest of crimes amongst their men, and 
wantonness in their women they punished with death. 

Some of their idols are surrounded by a wild poetry, and an 
air of almost classic beauty, recalling to the mind the divinities 
worshipped by the ancient Greeks and Romans. Of such was 
their goddess, called the Mother of Earth, who was held so 
sacred, that only the priest was permitted to touch her. Her 
temple stood amid the solemn shadows of a silent grove; her 
figure was always covered by a white garment, which was washed 
in a secret lake; in those waters the slaves who administered at 
her shrine were drowned — no one, saving the priest, was allowed 
to go abroad, who were once entrusted with her mysteries. On 
holy days her image was borne in procession, on the backs 
of beautifully marked cows. Nothing but joy and peace then 



62 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

reigned throughout the whole length and breadth of the land : 
the bark was moored upon the beach ; the spear and battle- 
axe hung upon the beam above the hearth, and Odin him- 
self seemed to sleep. But this lasted no longer than the 
days allotted to these processions: when they had passed, the 
keel was again launched, the weapons taken from their resting- 
place, while " grim-visaged war resumed his wrinkled front." 
Even the cattle that fed upon the island where this temple 
stood were held so sacred, that it was a crime to touch them, 
and he who drew water from the fountain that flowed beside the 
grove, dared not, even by a whisper, disturb the surrounding 
silence. We might almost fancy, while reading the descrip- 
tion of the idol they named Crodus, that we saw before us the 
embodiment of one of Spenser's beautiful stanzas, or that he 
himself had but turned into verse some old record, in which he 
found pictured this image of one of the ancient Saxon gods. It 
was of the figure of an old man, stooping through very age: he 
was clothed in a white garment; a girdle of linen, the ends of 
which hung loose, encircled his waist; his head was grey, and 
bare. He held in his right hand a vessel, in which flowers floated 
in water; his left hand rested upon a wheel, while he stood with 
his naked feet upon the back of a prickly perch. How like 
Spenser's description is the above, of his " Old January wrapped 
well in many weeds, to keep the cold away — of February, with 
the old waggon-wheels and fish — of the hand cold through hold- 
ing all the day the hatchet keen." Such a resemblance would 
the eye of a poet trace, and so would he transform old Crodus, 
the Saxon idol, into the personification of one of his months. 

Whoever broke into one of their temples, and stole the sacred 
vessels, was punished with a slow, lingering, and terrible death. 
To the very edge of the sands of the sea-shore was he dragged, 
when the tide was low, and there made fast — his ears were cut 
off, and other parts of his body mutilated — then he was left alone. 
Wave after wave came and went, and washed around him, as the 
ude came in; he felt the sea rising every minute, inch by inch — 
higher still, higher it came — every ripple that made a murmur 
on the shore rang his death-knell, until the last wave came 
that washed over him — then vengeance was satisfied. A more 
awful death can scarcely be imagined. 

They were a tall, big-boned, blue-eyed race of men, and it- 
appears from an old law made to punish a man who seized 



THE ANCIENT SAXONS. 63 

another by the hair, that they at one period wore it so long as 
to fall upon the shoulders. The females wore ornaments on 
their arms and necks. The government was generally vested in 
the hands of the aged, and they appear to have elected their 
ruler in war by the chiefs assembling and drawing lots. He 
on whom it fell, they followed and obeyed ; but when the war 
was over, they were again all equal. They were divided into 
four orders — the Etheling, or noble, who never married below 
his own rank; the Free-man, who shared in the offices of govern- 
ment; the Freed-man, or he who, either by purchase or merit, 
had obtained his liberty; and the Serf, or slave. They reckoned 
their time by the number of nights, and counted their years by 
the winters. April they named Easter-month, after their goddess, 
Eostre. Thus we still retain a name which, though commemorating 
the worship of an ancient idol, has now become endeared to us 
by the Resurrection of Christ — a holy time which we can never 
forget, for at every return it seems to bring back a spirit of 
beauty into the world, whose pathway is strown with the sweet- 
est and earliest flowers of spring. Bright spots of light every 
way break through this age of barbarism, and May, which again 
hangs the snow-white blossoms upon the hawthorn, they called 
milk-month ; nor can we now repeat the name without images 
of lowing cattle and pleasant pastures springing up before us, 
and we marvel how so warlike a race ever came to make use of 
such poetical and pastoral names. The sun they worshipped 
as a goddess; the moon as a god. A Saxon poet would have 
called the former, " The golden lady of the day." 

Although they appear to have been ignorant of the use of letters, 
yet there is but little doubt that they used certain signs, or cha- 
racters, which they were able to interpret. Some of these Runic 
hieroglyphics seem to have been engraven upon their swords. 
Their war-songs were committed to memory, and it is probable that 
many a one ranked high amongst their minstrels, who possessed 
no other talent than that of remembering and repeating these 
ancient lays. It might be that they were just enabled to form 
characters clear enough in their resemblance to some natural 
object, which, when inscribed upon the rugged monumental 
stone, bore some allusion to the name or bravery of the chief 
whose memory it perpetuated. Their only books seem to have 
been the bark of trees; the rind of the beech their favourite 
register; a tablet on which the rustic chronicler of the present 



64 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

day still makes the mark of his fair one's name, in characters 
only legible to himself. In point of civilization, they were 
at this time centuries behind the Britons, and an old author, 
describing them about the fifth century, says, " You see 
amongst them as many piratical leaders as you behold rowers, 
for they all command, obey, teach, and learn the art of pillage. 
Hence, after your greatest caution, still greater care is requisite. 
This enemy is fiercer than any other; if you be unguarded, they 
attack ; if prepared, they elude you. They despise the oppos- 
ing, and destroy the unwary ; if they pursue, they overtake ; if 
they fly, they escape. Shipwrecks discipline them, not deter ; 
they do not merely know, they are familiar with, all the dangers 
of the sea ; a tempest gives them security and success, for it 
divests the meditated land of the apprehension of a descent. In 
the midst of waves and threatening rocks they rejoice at their 
peril, because they hope to surprise." " Dispersed into many 
bodies," adds Zosimus, " they plundered by night, and when 
day appeared, they concealed themselves in the woods, feasting 
on the booty they had gained." * 

When the Saxons first approached the British coast, they 
issued out from the mouth of the Elbe, in wicker boats covered 
with leather, which seem to have been but little better than the 
coracles used by the ancient Britons. These were so light, 
that they found but little difficulty in carrying them overland, 
from one river or creek to another, then paddling their way 
under cover of the banks, wherever sufficient water was to be 
found, until at last they came unaware upon the natives. The 
chiules or keels which they possessed at the time they were 
called upon to aid Vortigern, were capable of containing above 
a hundred men each, a wonderful improvement on the frail 
barks with which they first ventured into the British seas. 
Such as we have here described them, were the tribe destined 
to overthrow an ancient race, whom the Romans never wholly 
subjugated. 

* Turner's " Anglo-Saxons," to which I am indebted for many of the facts 
recorded in this chapter. 



65 



CHAPTER IX. 

HENGIST— HOESA— EOWENA. AND VOETIGEEN. 

" They bargained for Thanet with Hengist and Horsa, 
Their aggrandizement was to ns disgraceful, 

After the destroying secret with the slaves at the confluent stream, 
Conceive the intoxication at the great banquet of Mead, 
Conceive the deaths in the great hour of necessity; 
Conceive the fierce wounds — the tears of the women — 
The grief that was excited by the weak chief (Vortigern) ; 
Conceive the sadness that will be revolving to us, 
When the brawlers of Thanet shall be our princes." 

Ancient Welsh Poem — Seventh Century. 

We have no account of the preliminary arrangements between 
the British king, and the Saxon chiefs, when the latter arrived 
with three ships, and landed at Ebbs-fleet, a spot which now lies 
far inland, though at that period the Wanstum w r as navigable 
for large vessels, and formed a broad barrier between the Island 
of Thanet and the mainland of Kent. Vortigern and his chief- 
tains were assembled in council when the Saxons appeared, and 
Hengist and Horsa were summoned before them. The Saxon 
ships, which contained about three hundred soldiers, were drawn 
up beside the shore, where the adventurers anxiously awaited 
the issue of the interview between their leaders and the British 
king. Such a meeting as this could scarcely result from chance; 
the time of landing — the assembled council — the attendance 
of Hengist and Horsa, all bear evidence of some previous 
understanding between the parties, similar to what w r e have 
before alluded to. Vortigern first interrogated the Saxons 
as to the nature of their creed; Hengist enumerated the names 
of the gods they worshipped, and further added, that they also 
dedicated the fourth and sixth days in the week to Woden and 
Frea. Inference might be drawn from the reply of Vortigern, 
that the Britons were already Christians, though such a conclu- 
sion ought, doubtless, to be limited in its application to the in- 
habitants of our island, for we have evidence that all were not. 

It was agreed that the Saxons were to assist the Britons, to 
drive the Scots and Picts out of the island — that for such service 
they were to receive food and clothing, and when not engaged 

VOL. I. F 



66 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

in war they were to be stationed in Ruithina, for by that name 
was the Isle of Thanet called by the ancient Britons. There is 
no evidence that Vortigern intended to give up this island, 
at that period, to the Saxons; the arrangement he made had 
nothing new in it. Centuries before, the Britons had crossed 
the sea, and fought in the wars of the Gauls; they had also aided 
the Romans: it was a common custom for one nation to hire the 
assistance of another; when the time of service was over, the 
soldiers either returned to their own country, or settled down 
amongst the native tribes, whom they had defended, as in 
Britain, many of the Romans and Gauls had done before-time. 
In this case, however, the result proved very different, though 
it would have been difficult for any one endowed with the 
keenest penetration to have foreseen that three small ships, 
probably containing in all not more than three hundred men, 
and these willing to render assistance on very humble terms, 
should point out a way over the waves, by which their companions 
in arms should come, and conquer, and take possession of a 
country which it had cost the Romans so many years of hard 
warfare to subjugate. The Saxons appear to have done their 
duty; fighting was their every-day trade: their robust natures 
had received no touch of Roman refinement, they earned their 
bread with the points of their swords, and the blows of their heavy 
battle-axes; they drove back the northern hordes beyond the 
Roman walls, and they soon grew into great favour with the 
Britons. All this was very natural to a nation now making rapid 
progress in civilization, and one wealthy enough to pay others 
for fighting its battles — it was a much easier life to sit com- 
fortably in their walled cities, to follow the chase, and enjoy the 
luxury of the bath, than to be chasing the Picts and Scots from 
one county to another, through forests and morasses, and over 
hills and dales, day after day; but to do this securely more aid 
was required. Hengist and Horsa had left numbers of their 
countrymen behind, who would willingly fight on the same terms 
which they had accepted. Vortigern agreed to the proposition 
they made, and more Saxons were speedily sent for. Seventeen 
ships soon arrived, and on the deck of one of these vessels, from the 
stern of which the banner of the white horse waved, stood a con- 
queror whose long silken locks blew out in the breeze, unen- 
cumbered by either helmet or crest, who bore neither sword, 
spear, shield nor battle-axe, but was armed only with a pair of 





s 




%^M^y^y aynJl ^u>*ts*n<a<< 



HENGIST, HORSA, ROWENA, AND VORTIGERN. 67 

beautiful blue eyes, and a face of such strange and surpassing 
beauty as bad never before been mirrored in our island waves: 
such was the Saxon Princess R-owena, destined to win more 
broad acres from the Britons without striking a single blow, than 
all the northern barbarians had ever gained by their numberless 
invasions. On the landing of his daughter, accompanied by so 
many of her countrymen, a great feast would, of course, be held 
to celebrate the event, and there Vortigern and the British 
chiefs would, beyond doubt, be assembled to welcome their new 
allies; there is nothing remarkable in such an occurrence, nor in 
Rowena drinking to her father's royal guest, nor in the island 
king falling at once in love with the beautiful barbarian. Her 
drinking his health in a tongue to which he was a stranger, 
her natural bashfulness, on first standing in the presence of the 
British king — her confusion when she found her language was 
not understood by him — all, doubtless, contributed to make her 
look more interesting. Then above all to know that the blood 
of Woden flowed in her veins, that she had descended from a 
hero, whose renown in battle had raised him to the grandeur of 
a god, in the idolatrous estimation of his own countrymen; all 
these things coupled together had surely romance and poetry 
enough about them, aided by such a beautiful countenance, to 
turn a calmer brain than Vortigern's, heated as his was by love 
and wine. He had no peace until he married her; her image 
seems to have haunted his memory, and caused him more uneasi- 
ness until she became his wife,, than all the inroads of the northern 
hordes had hitherto done. Even before this period, all had gone 
on smoothly and evenly between the Britons and the Saxons; 
but now Love himself had landed amongst the last-comers, and 
received the warmest welcome of them all. Who could dream 
that he but heralded the way for slaughter, conquest, and death 
to follow in, or that the beauty he accompanied should be the 
cause of bloodshed between the Saxons and the Britons ? — yet 
so it was. 

The Saxons were, shortly after, the sole possessors of the isle 
of Thanet, and the influence of Vortigern's pretty pagan wife 
was soon visible to the jealous eyes of the Britons. Hengist 
and Horsa began to demand more liberal supplies, and to cast a 
longing glance upon Kent; but the Britons had spirit enough to 
resist such a concession, and here we for a time lose sight of 
Vortigern and Rowena, though it is highly probable that they 

f2 



68 HISTORY OF ENGLAND, 

retreated into the isle of Thanet, then held by the Saxons, from 
the coming storm. Vortimer and Catigern, the two sons of Vor- 
tigern by a former marriage, now took the command of the 
Britons, with whom the Roman settlers in the island appear to 
have joined; all resolved to make head in one common cause, 
and to drive the Saxons out of Britain. Hengist and Horsa, to 
strengthen their force, formed a league with their old brothers 
in plunder, the Scots and Picts, and war once more broke out 
in the land, more terrible in its results than it had ever been 
in the struggles between the Britons and the Romans. What 
few fragments we find in the old Welsh bards, alluding to these 
ancient battles, are filled with dreadful descriptions, and awful 
images of slaughter. We are borne onward, from the shout of 
the onset, to the mighty shock when the opposing ranks close 
in battle, when blade clashes against blade, when dark frown- 
ing men sink with gory seams on their foreheads, and tall 
chieftains rock and struggle together in the combat, and as 
j ach knee is brought to the ground, it rests upon a bed of gore, 
while battle-axes, as they are uplifted, and glitter a moment 
in the air, shed down crimson drops. Then gloomy biers pass 
by, on which "red-men" are borne; and ravens come sweeping 
through the dim twilight which settles over that ancient battle- 
field, to prey upon the fallen warriors. Such wailings as these 
must have caused the heart of Vortigern to have beat pain- 
fully, even when the fair head of Rowena was pillowed upon 
it, and to have made him sigh, and regret that such beauty had 
been purchased at so great a sacrifice. At the battle of the Ford- 
of-Eagies, long after called Eaglesford, but now Aylesford, in 
Kent, did Horsa, the brother of Hengist, fall; he whose banner 
of the white-horse had waved over many a victorious field, and 
been the terror of the northern tribes, now fell to rise no more. 
On the side of the Britons, also perished Catigern, and a sore re- 
proach must his death have been to his father, Yortigern, when he 
heard the tidings! for, alas, he was wasting the hours in soft dalli- 
ance with his blue-eyed idolater, while his sons were fighting and 
falling in defence of their country. Vortimer had now the sole 
command of the Britons, and, if the ancient bards are to be be- 
lieved, it was by his hand that Horsa was slain. A sad pang- 
must such a rumour as this have sent through the aching heart 
of poor Rowena, as she gazed upon her husband, and in him be- 
held the father of her uncle's murderer, the destroyer of her 



HENGIST, H0RSA, ROWENA, AND VORTIGERN. 69 

father's companion in arms — he who had shared the fortunes of 
Hengist, from the hour when first the prow of their ship ploughed 
together the sands on the British shore. One of our old 
chroniclers (Roger de Wendover) states that, on a future day, 
Rowena bitterly revenged the death of Horsa, by bribing one of 
Vortimer's servants to poison her son-in-law, and that thus fell, in 
the bloom of life, one of the noblest of the British warriors — a 
victim to the vengeance of his step-mother. Whether this is 
true or not, it is now impossible to decide, so much are the state- 
ments of our early historians at variance; one thing, however, is 
clear, the Saxons were defeated, and compelled to escape in 
their long chiules, or ships; nor do they appear to have returned 
until after the death of Vortimer, when, at the suggestion of 
Rowena, her father was again invited to Britain, and this time 
Kengist returned with a larger force than had hitherto landed 
in our island. When the Saxon landed, he made an offer of 
peace to the Britons, and invited the chiefs to a feast, which he. 
gave on the occasion. Both parties were to come without their . 
arms, such was the command issued by Hengist, and enforced on 
the part of the British leaders by Vortigern, who was also present. 
The treacherous Saxon had, however, given orders to his fol- 
lowers to conceal short swords or daggers under their garments, 
and when he gave the signal, to fall upon and slaughter every 
Briton present., with the exception of Vortigern. The feast com- 
menced, the wine-cup circulated, the Saxon and British chiefs sat 
side by side; those who had fought together, face to face and hand 
to hand, were drinking from the same cup, for it appears to have 
been so contrived that a false-friend should be placed between 
every foe. Vortigern seems to have sat secure, and never once 
dreamed of the treachery that surrounded him; and, perhaps, even 
before the smile had well faded from Hengist's face, as he talked 
of the pleasant days that were yet in store for his unsuspecting 
son-in-law, he turned round and exclaimed: " Nimed cure saxes" 
" unsheath your swords," and in a few moments after three 
hundred British chiefs and nobles lay lifeless upon the ground. 
The motto prefixed to our present chapter is from one of the 
poems of Golyddan, a Welsh bard, who lived within a century or 
two after this cold-blooded massacre, a deed which must for many 
a long year afterwards have rankled in the minds of the Britons, 
and which their bards would never allow to slumber, whenever 
they sang the deeds of their departed chieftains. Doubtless 



70 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

Rowena was present at that bloody banquet, and with a cruel 
look confronted " the weak chief/' as he stood pale and horror- 
stricken, glancing from father to daughter, and cursing the hour, 
as he looked into the face of the beautiful heathen, whose blue 
eyes could perchance gaze, without shrinking for a moment, upon 
those wan and clay-cold countenances that were now upturned 
in death. Though long years have passed away, and the haw- 
thorns have put out their blossoms above a thousand times since 
the fatal May in which this terrible tragedy took place, still 
the eye of the imagination can scarcely conjure up the scene 
without a shiver. It is supposed to have been near Stonehenge 
where this cruel butchery took place, probably within the very 
circle of those Druidical monuments, some of which still stand, 
though at that period the whole temple was, doubtless, per- 
fect. If, as we are led to believe, many of the British chief- 
tains were Christians, there was something in keeping with the 
stern character of the Saxon pagans, in thus slaughtering their 
enemies in the presence of the very altars on which the islanders 
had formerly sacrificed to the gods they themselves worshipped, 
and such an act might, in their eyes, hallow even this savage re- 
venge. To slaughter all who did not believe in their heathen creed, 
was w r ith the Pagan Saxons a religious duty; they believed such 
acts were acceptable to their gods. 

We shudder at the very thought of such a deed — nearly four- 
teen centuries have elapsed since the sands of Salisbury Plain 
drank in the blood of these victims. Yet we startle to see the 
dead thus piled together around the grey old stones which the 
footsteps of Time have all but worn away, as if we still looked 
calmly on while they were brought bleeding to our very thresholds. 
Still the historian of the past might mingle his sympathy, and 
carry back many a deed which has since then been done, to be 
rolled up and mourned over in the same great catalogue of 
cruelty. The shadows that move through the old twilight of 
time, bend under the weight of the " red-men " that are borne 
upon the bier. The form of Hengist seems to stand leaning 
upon the red pillars that mark the entrance to the Hall of Murder 
in Valhalla, as if wondering " why the chariot wheels so long 
delayed," and the guests that still tarried behind, hastened to the 
banquet of sculls, which stood awaiting their coming, in the 
halls of Odin. For such a deed stamps him as a fitting servitor 
in that horrible hall of slaughter. 



HENGIST, H0RSA, ROWENA, AND VORTIGERN. 71 

At Crayford in Kent, another great battle was fought between 
the Saxons and the Britons, in which the latter were defeated 
with great slaughter, and so complete was the victory, that the 
remnant of the British army were compelled to retreat into 
London. But with all his success, Hengist was unable to keep 
possession of little more than the county of Kent, and the island 
of Thanet, and even this, it appears, he would have found it 
difficult to retain, but for the dissensions which were ever break- 
ing out amongst the British chiefs. The Britons were able at 
this very time to send out twelve thousand armed men into Gaul, 
to war against the Visigoths, so that there can be but little 
doubt that, had unity reigned amongst them, they would have 
found no difficulty in driving out the Saxons, as they had done 
before-time. The island seems to have been so divided at this 
period, and under the command of so many different chiefs or 
kings, that they cared not to bring their united forces to bear 
upon one corner of the kingdom, especially that where the pre- 
sence of Vortigern still appears to have been acknowledged; for 
it is probable that the British king, after the death of his son, 
settled down in his old age, amongst the Saxons, " a sadder and 
a wiser man." We even hope, in spite of his misdeeds, and 
the miseries into which his love for a fair face plunged the whole 
island of Britain, that there is no truth in the statements of our 
early Saxon historians, who have left it on record that he fled into 
Wales, where, hated alike " by slave and free-man, monk and 
layman, strong and weak, small and great," he at last perished 
with the fair Rowena, and all his family, in those flames which 
destroyed the fortress where he had sought shelter from his 
enemies. Yet many venerable names might be brought forward 
in support of this story of the terrible end of an ancient British 
king. A dreadful fate for fair Rowena, if true, and all the evi- 
dence is sadly in its favour, and from our hearts, we cannot help 
pitying the poor girl, who with downcast eyes, as she held the 
golden goblet in her hand, listened to the promises which the 
island monarch poured into her ears; who stepped from the 
deck of her father's galley, to share a throne, yet appears never 
to have forsaken her husband in all the varied vicissitudes of his 
chequered life; but through battle, flood, and fire, to have trod 
the same perilous path with him, hand in hand, sometimes, it may 
be, when alone, shedding tears at the remembrance of her father's 
cruelties, weeping one hour, for the death of her own friends, and 



72 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

the next, comforting Vortigern for the loss of those he mourned. 
We picture her, as in the joyousness of her heart she left her 
native home to meet her father — no mother appears to have ac- 
companied her — and, pagan as she was, we know not how pure 
and holy the feelings of that heart might be; for, red with blood 
as the hands of Hengist were, they had, doubtless, many a time 
parted her silken ringlets, as he stooped down and imprinted a 
father's kiss upon her lips. Perhaps a tear stole down the deep 
furrows which time and care had ploughed in the weather- 
beaten countenance of Hengist, as he embraced her when she 
first landed on our island shore, as in her pure countenance he 
traced the image of her mother, whom he had once so fondly 
loved. Poor Rowena ! she might have moved like a ministering 
angel, through all the terrors of those stormy times, her mild blue 
eyes beaming comfort on every woe-begone countenance on which 
they glanced — now soothing the restless slumber of her father, as 
he started up, dreaming of some new revenge, and by her falling 
tears, and low -breathed whispers, chasing away the dark demon 
from his couch; for even through the past, those gentle eyes seem 
to beam upon us, and the tears by which they are dimmed quench 
the cruel light, that when- in anger, flashed from beneath her 
fringed eye-lids. Oh, Mercy ! thou wouldst not leave that beau- 
tiful Saxon mother to perish shrieking amidst the surrounding 
flames ! What crimes she had, sprang from her faith ; she was 
nursed in a cruel creed; when the grim shadow of Odin fell not 
over and darkened her gentle heart, she was a fond woman, even 
as our mothers have ever been. But she is dead and gone. 
Hengist is now no more, and Eric, his son, reigns sole king 
over the white-cliffs, and green hills, and pastoral valleys of Kent, 
and the keels of other chiules are grating upon our chalky head- 
lands. The grey curtain of Time again drops down over the dead 
which in fancy stood before us, and after the night of death is 
past, a new morning breaks, that 

" Laughs aside the clouds with playful scorn." 



73 



CHAPTER X. 

ELLA, CERDRIC, AND KING ARTHUR. 

" He was a shield to his country : 
The courteous leader of the army ; 
His course was a wheel in battle, 
He was a city to old age ; 
The head, the noblest pillar of Britain ; 
An eagle to his foe in his thrust, 
Brave as generous ; 
In the angry warfare, certain of victory." 

Llywaech Hen., Sixth Century. 

The next Saxon chieftain of any note, who effected a landing 
in Britain, and established himself in the country, was Ella; he 
came, accompanied by his three sons and the same number of 
ships, the latter being anchored beside the Isle of Thanet, where 
Hengist and Horsa, twenty-eight years before, became auxiliaries 
under Vortigern. From the south of Kent, a vast forest ex- 
tended into Sussex and Hampshire, a huge uncultivated wilder- 
ness, called Andreade, or Andredswold, measuring above a 
hundred miles in length, and a long day's march in breadth, for 
it was full thirty miles wide, and abounded with wolves, deer, 
and wild boars. Near the Sussex entrance of this primeval 
English forest, Ella fought his first battle, and drove the Britons 
into the wide wooded waste. After a time, the Saxon chief re- 
ceived fresh reinforcements, and not until then did he venture 
to attack the ancient British town which was named Andredes 
Ceaster, and stood, strongly fortified, on the edge of the forest. 
While the Saxons were attempting to scale the walls, a body of 
the Britons rushed upon them from the wood, and, thus attacked 
in the rear, the invaders were compelled to turn their backs 
upon the town and carry the fight into the forest. Three times 
was the assault renewed, for no sooner were the Saxons at the 
foot of the wall than the Britons were upon their heels; each 
time Ella's loss was severe; night came, and both parties rested 
until the morrow, encamped within sight of each other. With 
sunrise, the battle was renewed, and the Saxon chief this time 
drove the Britons still further into the forest, but all was use- 
less — they knew every turning and every thicket that afforded a 



74 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

shelter, and by the time the besiegers had again reached the 
town, the brave islanders were there, ready to pin the first 
Saxon to the wall who attempted to scale it, with the unerring 
javelins which they could hurl to an inch. The forces under 
Ella became furious; they stood between two enemies; they were 
attacked both from the town and the forest; whichever way 
they turned, the pointed spears of the Britons were presented, 
At length, the Saxon chief divided his army into two bodies : 
one he commanded to drive the Britons into the forest, and to 
prevent them from returning; the other, at the same time, began 
to break down the walls. Revenge was now the order of the 
day: maddened by their losses, and irritated by the long delay, 
the merciless Saxons put every soul within the walls to death 
— neither man, woman, nor child, did they leave alive; such a 
massacre had never before taken place. Even the walls were 
levelled to the earth, and, for ages after, that town stood by the 
gloomy forest, silent, ruined, and desolate; until even the time of 
Edward the First it was pointed out to the stranger; and though 
the long grass, and the moss, and the lichen, had grown grey upon 
its ruins, there were still traces of its fallen grandeur " which," in 
the words of the old chronicler, " showed how noble a city it 
had once been." 

It is painful, even only in fancy, to picture the return of those 
British warriors from the forest; how startling must have been 
the very silence which reigned over those ruins, the vast dreary 
woodland wilderness behind, the levelled walls and the bodies of 
the dead before — here the remains of a beloved home which the 
destroying fire had blackened — on the hearth a beautiful form, with 
her long hair steeped in her own heart's blood, her child stretched 
across her arm, over which the heavy rafter had in mercy fallen, 
the wolf already prowling about the threshold. Even through 
the night of time, we can almost hear their moans — each warrior 
reproaching himself for having fled, and envying the unbroken 
sleep of the slain. How looked those British fathers and hus- 
bands when they again met the Saxon slayers in battle? Who 
marvels, after reading of such deeds as these, that they hung 
the heads of their enemies at their sides — that they found music 
in the gurgling of their blood — that as the foe expired they stood 
calmly looking on, mocking him with a solemn death-chaunt, 
and telling the dying man of the wife and home he would 
never see again — of the savage laugh, "bitter and sullen as 



ELLA, CERDRIC, AND KING ARTHUR. 75 

the bursting of the sea, of the dead which in their fury they 
mangled — of the joy with which they hailed the flapping of the 
raven's wings, as they heard them descending upon the battle- 
field?" Such images would maddened revenge select to express its 
triumph in, and the only marvel is, that so many beautiful passages, 
expressive of grief, and sorrow, and heart-broken despair, are 
scattered over the wild wailings of the early British bards. Yet 
such scenes as we have here depicted it was theirs to deplore — 
such revenge as they took, when the current of battle bore them 
on to victory, it was theirs to exult in, and their bards, gifted 
with the power of song, retired to mourn like the dove, or 
sallied forth to destruction with the scream of the eagle. 
They were familiar with the images of death, were called 
upon every day to defend their lives, and were never cer- 
tain that she, whose beautiful smile beamed love on their de- 
parture in the morning, would in the evening stand waiting 
upon the threshold to welcome their return. Neither the weep- 
ing mother, nor the smiling child, had, in those days, power to 
turn aside the edge of the Saxon sword. Thus was the second 
Saxon kingdom called Sussex, established, by Ella, and his three 
sons. 

Eighteen years after, another of Woden's descendants, named 
Cerdric, came with his followers in five ships. Where they 
landed is uncertain, though it does not appear that we should 
be much in error if we fixed upon Yarmouth, which for cen- 
turies after was called Cerdricksand, and known by that name 
even in Camden's day. At the time of his landing, the Britons 
were in possession of the whole island, with the exception of 
Kent and Sussex, and the Saxons who inhabited these king- 
doms appear to have aided the new-comers. Battle followed 
upon battle as usual, and we are thankful that only so few 
scanty records exist, for it would be wearisome to go over such 
successive bead-rolls of slaughter. Nor was Cerdric allowed 
to land peaceably, for, like Julius Caesar above five cen- 
turies before, he had to fight his way from the first moment of 
leaving the deck of his vessel. One great battle, however, 
was fought, in which the British king Natanleod was slain; the 
two armies met at Churdfrid, and in the onset the islanders 
appear to have had the advantage. Natanleod commenced 
the attack on the right wing of the Saxons, broke through 
the line, bore down the standards, and compelled Cerdric 



76 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

to retreat. Years had passed away since the Britons had 
before mustered such a force; they pursued the routed foe 
across the field with terrible slaughter. The victory, however, 
was far from being complete, for while the Britons plunged for- 
ward, hot and eager in the pursuit, the forces under the com- 
mand of the son of Cerdric closed upon the flank of the pur- 
suing army and compelled them to wheel round and defend them- 
selves. The Saxon chief also recovered from the panic, and 
attacked them in front; thus the Britons were hemmed in on 
both sides, and their centre was soon broken. All was now 
huriy, retreat, confusion, and slaughter; quarter was neither 
craved nor given, those who could not escape fought and fell, 
and when the battle was ended, the body of the British king 
lay surrounded by five thousand of his lifeless warriors. It will 
be readily imagined that Cerdric must have received great 
assistance from Kent and Sussex to have won such a victory, 
and it is evident that the leagued forces did not separate 
without extending their ravages — many a fair province was deso- 
lated, the inhabitants slaughtered, their houses burnt to the 
ground, and their priests mercilessly butchered; for wherever 
the Christian religion abounded, there the sword of the Saxon 
was found unsheathed. 

Stuf and Wihtgar next came, both of them Cerdric's kinsmen, 
and it seems as if scarcely a favourable wind now blew, without 
wafting a fresh fleet of Saxon chiefs to the British coast. They 
evidently began to look upon Britain as their own; so many 
relations came one after the other and settled down, and never 
returned, that we can imagine the only topic of conversation 
now in Jutland was about Britain — that houses and lands 
were at a discount — that everybody was either purchasing or 
building ships — that the old crones reaped quite a harvest 
in standing upon the headlands and sending prayers after 
the vessels, for Jutes, Angles, and Saxons were now all astir; 
rumours had flown over the ocean that there were kingdoms 
for those who dare venture for them, and that, no matter how 
distant the descent might be, so long as the voyager had a drop 
of Woden's blood in his veins, there was a crown for him if he 
could but find followers to fight for it. Nor had the poor 
Britons any hope left, for as one died off there was always 
another ready to succeed. Cynric followed Cerdric; he passed 
away, and Cealwin came — killed two or three British kings, of 



ELLA, CERDRIC, AND KING ARTHUR. 77 

whom we know nothing, excepting that one was called Con- 
mail, another Condidan, and the third Farinmail — added the 
cities of Gloucester, Cirencester, and Bristol to his dominions — 
and finally established the kingdom of Wessex, which included 
several counties, beside the Isle of Wight. But we must not 
thus hurry over this stirring period, for a new champion had 
sprung up amongst the Britons, the king Arthur of old romance, 
the hero of poetry and fable, the warrior whose very existence 
has, to many, become a matter of doubt. What little we know 
of any of the British kings who existed at this period, is almost 
limited to the bare mention of their names. A new language 
had sprung up, and, excepting among the conquered, there was 
no one left to record the deeds of the British heroes, but the 
Welsh bards; for what sympathy could the worshippers of 
Woden have with the warriors who spoke another language, and 
followed a creed so different to their own? What should we 
have known of the earlier Britons but for Julius Ceesar? Who 
can doubt but that the Saxons cared only to chronicle the deeds 
of their own countrymen, or who can tell how many records 
were destroyed by the misbelieving Danes on a later day? We 
have more than tradition to prove the existence of Arthur: he 
is alluded to by the ancient bards, and mentioned by them in 
succession, for as one caught up and carried forward the Cymric 
lay of another, so did he allude to warriors of other days. The 
Saxons had enough to do to record their own conquests, and 
left the Britons to mourn over their own disasters, for what they 
remembered with feelings of pride would to the new-comers be 
a source of regret; a British victory would but afford them a 
theme for a dirge, and the very memory of a hero who had occa- 
sionally triumphed over them would be a source of pain. Those 
who furnished Gildas and Nennius with the subjects for their 
histories would not be such as kept a record of the bravery of the 
Britons, yet Arthur is mentioned by them both. These vene- 
rable chroniclers could but tell what they heard; many of the 
Welsh bards fought in the battles of which they sang, and 
even defeat, as well as victory, was alike woven into their lays. 
No such remains are found amongst the Saxon historians, 
yet they both mention the battles in which Arthur fought : 
he was a British king; and, though Gildas was living within 
twenty years after the death of Arthur, he had but little sym- 
pathy for him — nevertheless he praises his valour. 



/O HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

Arthur is the last British king in whose fortunes we strongly 
sympathize. We see his native land about to be wrested from 
him. In every corner of the island are strangers landing, and 
taking possession of the soil. In almost every battle the Britons 
are defeated; they who, from the first dawning of history, had been 
the possessors of the island, are about to be driven from it, and that, 
too, at a period when they were just becoming familiar to us. As 
we feel for and with them at this time, so do the Saxons at last 
interest us, and there our sympathy ends; the Normans never 
become so endeared to us as they have been. From their first 
landing we seem to dislike them, even more than we do the 
Saxons, whom we begin to see darkening every point of the 
land, for as yet they are Pagans, and just as they gather upon 
our favour, the Danes approach; and then we feel as much in- 
terested on the side of the Saxons as we do now on that of the 
Britons. For there are currents in history which bear us forward 
against our will — we struggle against them in vain — we are swept 
onward through new scenes, and whirled so rapidly amongst 
past events, that we no longer cling to passing objects to re- 
tard our courses; but as the wide ocean opens out before us, we 
gaze upon its vastness in wonderment, and are lost in the con- 
templation of the shifting scenes which are ever chasing each 
other over its surface. The forms that fall upon the pages of 
history, are like the sunshine and shadow pursuing each other 
over the face of the ocean, where the golden fades into the grey; 
and as each wave washes nearer to the shore, it is ever 
changing its hue, from gloom to brightness, until it breaks 
upon the beach, and is no more. Arthur leading on the Britons, 
with the image of the Virgin upon his shield, seems, in our eyes, 
only like some armed phantom, standing upon the rim of the 
horizon at sunset, and pointing with his sword towards the 
coming darkness; then he sinks behind the rounded hill, never 
to appear again. His twelve battles have a glorious indistinct- 
ness, — they sink one behind the other in the sunset, just as 
we can trace the bright armour, and the drooping banners, and 
the moving host, in the fading gold of the clouds, — they then melt 
around the dying glories of heaven. Something great and grand 
seems ever shaping itself before the eye; but ere we are able 
to seize upon any distinct feature, all is gone, never to appear 
again. 

Arthur first appears to us checking the flight of a British prince; 



ELLA, CERDRIC, AND KING ARTHUR. 79 

we see his hand on the rein, he is about to bear off the beauti- 
ful lady, but is dissuaded from it by his companions. The 
cavalcade passes on, and he rides moodily at the head of his 
followers, — then one of the dark turnings of time shuts him out 
from the sight. 

Sword in hand, we next behold him, in hot pursuit after a 
British chief, who has slain some of his soldiers; the image of 
the Virgin is borne rapidly through the air, his teeth are clenched, 
and there is a frown upon his brow. A priest approaches — 
others come up — they tell him that there are enemies enough to 
slay amongst the Saxons. The angry spot fades from his fore- 
head, and he sits calmly in his saddle — again he vanishes. 

His wife is then borne away, and we meet him breathing 
vengeance against the king of Somersetshire, vowing that he 
will, ere night, leave Melva to sleep shorter by the head — he 
slackens his rein for a few moments beside the gate of a mo- 
nastery: good and holy men are there, the hand of a venerable 
man is placed upon his bridle, the image of the Virgin he bears 
upon his shield is appealed to; he muses for a time with his eyes 
bent upon the ground, he allows his war-horse to be led under 
the grey gateway of the monastery — his wife is restored, and 
Melva forgiven, and the curtain again falls. 

Huel, another king of the Britons, has been tampering with 
the enemies of his country; he is upbraided by Arthur for his 
treachery, then slain by his own hand. We see him ever in 
the van, at the battles of Glen, Douglas, Bassas, the Wood of 
Caledon, Castle Gunnion, on the banks of the Rebroit, on the 
mountain of Cathregonian, and the battle in which the Saxons 
were routed on the Badon Hills, and we no longer wonder at 
the slow progress made by Cerdric, or that he died before the 
kingdom of Wessex was established. The armed troops, headed 
by king Arthur, stood between his advance into Wales; they 
remembered the hills of Bath, and the number of slain they 
had left upon those summits. Saving the feud with Medrawd, 
in which the British king received the blow by which he died, 
these few facts are about all that we can gather of the renowned 
deeds of the mighty King Arthur. 

Excepting the slight mention made of him in the works of 
Gildas and Nennius, the former of whom, as we have before 
stated, was living about the period ascribed to Arthur, we find, 
no other record of his deeds, beyond those tradition has pre- 



80 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

served in the lays of the Welsh bards. After the battle of 
Camlan, where Arthur received his death -bio w, he was carried 
from the field, and conveyed to Glastonbury Abbey, and con- 
signed to the care of a noble lady, named Morgan, who appears 
to have been a kinswoman of king Arthur's; in her charge he 
was left to be cured of his wounds. He, however, died, though 
his death was long kept a secret, and rumours were sent abroad 
that he had been removed into another world, but would one 
day again appear, and reign sole king of Britain. Ages after, 
this was believed in ; it was a thought that often cheered the 
fading eyes of the dying Celt; he believed that he but left his 
children behind him for a time; and that Arthur, with the 
Virgin upon his shield, and his sword, " Caliburne," in his 
hand, would assuredly one day come and lead the remnant of 
the ancient Cymry on to victory. No historian, who has looked 
carefully into the few facts which we possess relating to this 
British king, has ever doubted the existence of such a belief; it 
was a coming devoutly looked for — the dreamy solace of a fallen 
nation, their only comfort when all beside had perished. No 
marvel that round his memory so many fables are woven — that 
miracle upon miracle was ascribed to him, and deed upon deed 
piled together, until even the lofty summit of high romance at 
last toppled down with all its giants, and monsters, and impro- 
bable accumulation of enemies slain, which in the days of Gil- 
das amounted to hundreds, and that down with it tumbled nearly 
all the few facts which had swelled into such an inordinate bulk 
from his fair fame. How it would have astonished the true 
Arthur, could he but have been restored to life, and by the light 
of the few embers which glimmered in the British huts in the 
evening twilight, have heard some bard, the descendant of Lly- 
warch the aged, who knew him well, and had looked on him, face 
to face, recounting his deeds at the battle of Llongberth ! Yet, 
through the traditions of these very bards, by whom his deeds 
were so magnified, is his memory preserved, though above thirteen 
centuries have glided away. All belief in his return must, ages 
before this, have perished; yet his memory was not forgotten, and 
it is on record, that a secret had been entrusted to one who had 
probably descended from a long line of ancient minstrels; for the 
druids, who numbered bards amongst their order, had mysteries 
which they only confided to each other, and these were seldom re- 
vealed until the approach of death. Nor can we tell how much 



ELLA, CERDRIC, AND KING ARTHUR. 81 

they were interested in keeping the death of Arthur a secret, for 
we must not forget that the fires upon their altars were not 
wholly extinguished when the British king fell beneath the fatal 
blow, which he received from the hand of his nephew in the field 
of Camlan, for that his death was kept a secret has never been 
disputed. 

Though the discovery of the remains of king Arthur has long 
been a matter of doubt, yet while it is supported by such high 
authority as Giraldus Cambrensis and William of Malmsbury, 
who were living at the period it is said to have taken place, and 
while even Sharon Turner has admitted it into his " History of 
the Anglo-Saxons," we should scarcely be justified in rejecting 
it from our pages. The discovery is said to have originated as 
follows: — 

Henry the Second, during his visits into Wales, freely admitted 
the Welsh bards into his presence ; and as he numbered amongst 
his own household a minstrel of some celebrity, named Pierre de 
Vidal, there is every reason to conclude that he was a willing- 
listener to the ancient lays which were chanted in those days in 
the halls of the nobles. By one of the old British bards he was told 
that king Arthur was interred in Glastonbury Abbey ; that the 
spot was marked by two pyramids, or pillars; that the body was 
buried very deep, to prevent the Saxons from discovering it; 
and that, instead of a stone coffin, the remains would be found 
in the trunk of a hollowed oak — a form of interment, as we have 
before shown, very common amongst the ancient Britons. The 
king transmitted this information to the abbot of Glastonbury, 
commanding him to dig between the pillars, and endeavour to 
discover the body of the British king. In the cemetery of the 
abbey, and between the monuments which the Welsh bard had 
pointed out, they commenced the search, and dug, it is said, until 
they came to a stone, under which they found a leaden cross, 
and the following inscription: " Hie jacet sepultus inclytus Hex 
Arthurus in insula Avollonia." Though we must confess that 
there is something very doubtful about the inscription of a Bri- 
tish king not being in Welsh, when the Cymry were said, at this 
period, to have been acquainted with letters, we will pass it by, 
and go on with the narrative. Sixteen feet lower, it is said, 
they found the outer coffin, which, as before described, was 
formed out of the solid stem of an oak, hollowed in the centre to 
contain the body. The leg-bones, we are told, were of an un- 

VOL. I. G 



82 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

usual size, being the breadth of three fingers longer than those 
of the tallest man present. These bones G-iraldus, it is said, 
took in his hand, and also read the inscription, for he was pre- 
sent at the disinterment. The skull was large, and marked with 
ten wounds — nine of these had healed in the bone, the tenth was 
open, and probably showed where the mortal blow was struck 
that terminated his life. Near at hand, were found the remains 
of his wife; the long yellow hair which the ancient bards loved 
to dwell upon, in their descriptions of the fair queen, appeared 
perfect, until touched. The remains were removed into the 
abbey, and placed in a magnificent shrine, which, by the order 
of Edward the First, was placed before the high altar. In 
the year one thousand two hundred and seventy-six, nearly 
a hundred years after the bodies were discovered, the same 
king, accompanied by his queen, visited Glastonbury, and 
had the shrine opened to look upon the remains of the re- 
nowned warrior and his once fair consort. King Edward folded 
the bones of the reputed Arthur in a rich shroud, while his wife 
did the same w 7 ith those of the yellow-haired queen; then placed 
them again reverentially within the shrine. The pillars which 
marked the spot where the bodies were discovered, long remained; 
and William of Malmsbury, who was living at the period when 
they were disinterred, has left an account of the inscription 
and figures upon the pillars, which were five-sided, and twenty- 
six feet high.* Neither the meanings of the inscriptions, or the 
figures, were at the period of the discovery rightly understood. 
"What befel them afterwards we know not, though the fate of 
the abbey is well known. Whether the discovery of these 
remains be true or not, there cannot be a doubt about the exist- 
ence of king Arthur; for, were there even no allusion made to 
him by G-ildas and Nennius, who lived near upon the period 
when he was waging war with Cerdric and Cealwin; or by the 
British bards, who knew him personally, and even fought under 
his command, — were there no such undeniable evidence as the 
above, the traditions which so long preserved his remembrance 
would go far to prove his existence. But these throw no light 
upon the achievements by which he became so renowned; it is 
like discovering the casket without the gem — there is evidence 
of the treasure, and the care with which it was preserved, but 
what the treasure itself was, we know not. What few facts we 

* Turner's Anglo-Saxons, vol. i. p. 293. 



ESTABLISHMENT OP THE SAXON OCTARCHY. 83 

have thrown together, are all that can really be depended upon 
as the true history of king Arthur: his knights, his round table, 
and the deeds which are attributed to him, must ever stand 
amongst the thousand-and-one tales which a wonder-loving 
people have treasured in all ages, and some of which are found 
even amongst the most barbarous nations. They appear to have 
been such as raised Woden into a god in the darkest era of 
Saxon paganism; and as Roman civilization seems never to have 
spread far amongst the ancient Cymry in Wales, we are justified 
in concluding that they also loved to shed around the memory of 
their bravest chieftain the same mysterious reverence, and that 
what was wanting to make up the unnatural stature of the image 
of their idolatry, they piled up from old legends and time-out-of- 
mind fables, that " give delight, but hurt not." The discovery 
of king Arthur's remains is at best but doubtful history. 



CHAPTER XI. 

ESTABLISHMENT OE THE SAXON OCTARCHY. 

" Over the hawk's station, over the hawk's banquet of heads, 
Over the quivering of the spears, reddening was the wing; 
Over the howling of the storm the course of the sea-gull was seen ; 
Over the blood, whirling and flowing, the exultiug ravens were screaming, 
They hovered above the treasure of the fierce-winged race, 
And their clamour went spreading through the sky." 

Cynddelu's Death of Owen. 

During the period in which the events occurred that are nar- 
rated in the opening pages of our last chapter, another body of 
Saxons had arrived in Britain, and settled down in Essex, where 
under Erkenwin they laid the foundation of that kingdom or 
state, which eventually extended into Middlesex, and included 
London — then a town of considerable note, though bearing no 
marks of its high destiny, as its few houses heaved up and over- 
looked the Thames. Little did the fisherman dream, as he 
turned back to gaze upon his humble home, where the morning 
sunbeams fell, that the hut in which he had left his children 
asleep, stood where a city would one day rise, that should be- 

g2 



84 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

come the metropolis of England, and the envy of surrounding 
nations. Still less did those ancient Saxons, as they landed in 
the marshes of Essex, ever imagine that they were marching 
onward towards a town, whose renown would one day spread to 
the uttermost ends of the earth, a city which would at last arrest 
the gaze of the whole wide world, whose grandeur would only 
be eclipsed by its greatness, and stand the sun of the earth, 
defying all eyes to point out, amid the blaze of its splendour, 
where its brightness began or where it ended. But while the tide 
which bore on a new population was thus setting in, and the 
kingdom of East Anglia was formed by a portion of the Saxon 
tribe, who have left no other names behind than those given to 
the counties of Suffolk and Norfolk, the most formidable force 
that had hitherto arrived in Britain, since the time of the Romans, 
landed between the Tweed and the Firth of Forth. Forty ships 
were at once anchored near the mouths of these rivers, and from 
them stepped on shore, Ida and his twelve sons, with a number 
of nameless chiefs, who belonged to the tribe of Angles, and 
a long train of Saxon followers, all of whom had sworn to 
acknowledge Ida as their king, for he also claimed descent from 
the inexhaustible stock of Woden. Between the Clyde and the 
Humber, the country was divided amongst many of the British 
tribes, all of whom had their separate king, or chief, and were 
ever doing their utmost, unconsciously, to aid the conquest of the 
Saxons, by waging war with each other. Bernicia and Deira, 
as they were afterwards called, were at the time of Ida's landing 
governed by the following kings or chiefs, for it is difficult to dis- 
tinguish their proper titles, named Gall, Dy vedel, Ysgwnell,Urien, 
the patron of Taliesin the bard, Rhydderc the generous, Gwallog, 
Aneurin, himself a poet, together with other sovereigns whose 
very names have perished, and who all appear to have, for once, 
united, and made a bold stand against the advance of Ida. 

We have now the light of these ancient bards to guide us 
through this remote period, and some of them fought in the 
battles of which they have left us descriptions. Chief amongst 
these British warriors appears to have been Urien ; Taliesin calls 
him the " shield of heroes, the thunderbolt of the Cymry," and 
compares his onset to "the rushing of mighty waves, and fiery 
meteors blazing athwart the heavens." Ida, they designated the 
flame-man, or flame-bearer, so terrible was the devastation which 
he made. Many battles were fought between these renowned 



ESTABLISHMENT OF THE SAXON OCTARCHY. 85 

chieftains. It was on the night which ushers in the Sabbath, when 
the " Flame-bearer" approached, with his forces divided into four 
companies, to surround Goddeu and Reged, provinces over which 
Urien governed. Ida spread out his forces from Argoedd to 
Arfynnydd, and having assumed this threatening position, he 
daringly demanded submission and hostages from the Britons. 
Urien indignantly spurned the proposition, and turning to his 
brother chieftains, exclaimed: " Let us raise our banners where 
the mountain winds blow — let us dash onward with our forces 
over the border — let each warrior lift his spear above his head, 
and rush upon the destroyer, in the midst of his army, and slay 
him, together with his followers." Taliesin, who was present, 
and fought under the banner of Urien, thus describes the "Battle 
of the Pleasant Valley:" " When the shouts of the Britons 
ascended, louder than the roaring of the waves upon the storm- 
tossed shore, neither field nor forest afforded safety to the foe : I 
saw the warriors in their brave array, I saw them after the 
morning's strife — oh, how altered! I saw the conflict between 
the perishing hosts, the blood that gushed forward and soaked 
into the red ground : — the valley which was defended by a ram- 
part was no longer green. Wan, weary men, pale with affright, 
and stained with blood, dropped their arms and staggered across 
the ford; I saw Urien, with his red brow — his sword fell on the 
bucklers of his enemies with deadly force — he rushed upon them 
like an eagle enraged." In this battle, the Britons appear to have 
been victorious — others followed in which they were defeated, 
for the "flame-bearing man" spread terror wherever he trod. 
He, however, at last fell by Owen the son of Urien, one of the 
poets, who also perished by the hand of one of his own country- 
men, and his death was bemoaned by the British bard Llywarch, 
in such a plaintive strain that there are few compositions which 
excel this ancient elegy, for its beautiful pathos and wild, 
mournful images; some of these are as follows: "I bear a head 
from the mountains; the body will ere night be buried under 
the cairn of stones and earth! Where is he that supported and 
feasted me? Euryddiel will be joyless to-night. Whom shall I 
praise, now Urien is no more ? The hall is stricken into ruins, — 
the floor desolate, where many a hound and hawk were trained 
for the chase. Nettles and weeds will grow over that hearth, 
which, when Urien lived, was ever open to the tread of the 
needy; the shout of the warriors as they uplifted the mead 



86 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

cups, no more will be heard rioting. The decaying green will cover 
it. the mouldering lichen will conceal it, the thorn will above it 
grow; the cauldron will become rusted that seethed the deer, 
the sword of the warrior will no longer clank over it, no sound 
of harmony will again be heard there; where once the blazing 
torches flashed, and the deep drinking horn went round, the 
swine will root, and the black ants swarm, for Urien is no 
more!" Such were the immortal echoes that floated around our 
island, nearly a thousand years before Shakspere " struck the 
golden lyre." 

After the death of Urien, another severe battle was fought 
in the north between the Britons and Angles, who accompanied 
Ida. Aneurin, who was in the fight, has composed the longest 
poem which has descended to us descriptive of those ancient 
conflicts; it is called the " Gododin," and was held in such 
reverence by the Welsh bards, that they entitled him their 
king. It is frequently alluded to by the minstrels of the period. 
The poem descriptive of the battle of Cattraeth, from which 
Aneurin escaped, when three hundred and three score British 
nobles, all wearing the " golden torque," fell, contains nearly a 
thousand lines. Only three renowned warriors survived this 
awful combat; the bard was amongst the number. The British 
chieftains had been drinking the pale mead by " the light of 
rushes" all night long; with the first streak of dawn, they set 
out to attack the Saxons; when they came in sight of the enemy, 
they " hastened swift, all running together — short were their 
lives." Like the melancholy chorus in a dirge is this "pale mead" 
banquet ever repeated throughout the poem; its effects are sadly 
deplored, it is ever turning up and coming in upon the end of 
some sorrowful reflection; " pleasant was its taste, long its woe — 
it had been their feast, and was their poison — it was a banquet 
for which they paid the price of their lives." Hear Aneurin's 
own words: " The warriors that went to Cattraeth were furious — 
pale golden wine and mead had they drank; they were three 
hundfed and three score and three, all wearing golden torques, 
who hastened to battle after the banquet. From the edges of 
the keen-slaying swords, only three escaped the war-dogs, Aeron 
and Dayarawd, and I, from the flowing blood were saved. The 
reward of my protecting muse." The battle appears to have 
been fought in the morning of one of their festive days; and in 
the grey dawn, the intoxicated chiefs ran upon the enemy all to- 



ESTABLISHMENT OF THE SAXON OCTARCHY. 87 

gether, probably having boasted over their cups that one would 
outstrip the other, and be the first to dye his sword in Saxon 
blood. The scene of the battle cannot now be ascertained; that 
it was in the north we have proof, from the men of Bernicia and 
Deiri being present. 

After these events, the kingdom called Mercia was established; 
it appears to have extended over our present midland counties, 
occupying the most important space which stretches from the 
Severn to the Humber, and even pushing its frontier upon the 
borders of Wales. This formed the eighth kingdom, state, or 
colony, established by the Saxons since the day when Hengist 
and Horsa first entered the service of Vortigern — a period occu- 
pying but little more than one hundred years, and during that time 
there was scarcely an interval in which the Saxons had not 
either to defend their hard-won possessions, or aid their country- 
men when they were close pressed. The Britons had still their 
own kingdoms in Wales, Cornwall, a portion of Devonshire, and 
the district of Strathclyde; and some of these they maintained 
even after the death of Alfred. 

We will now take a rapid glance at the eight kingdoms esta- 
blished by the Saxons, for although Bernicia and Deiri are 
frequently classed together as one state, and called Northumbria, 
and were occasionally under the sway of one sovereign, they 
were, nevertheless, distinct kingdoms for a time. Thus an 
octarchy was established, formed of the following eight distinct 
states. 

First, the Jutes, who had gained Kent, where Hengist first 
established himself, and to which his followers added the Isle of 
Wight, and a portion of the opposite coast of Hampshire. This 
formed the kingdom of Kent. 

Second, the South Saxons, who landed under Ella, and, after 
many a severe combat with the Britons, founded the kingdom of 
Sussex. 

Third, the East Saxons, who, under the command of Erkenwin, 
gradually spread over the counties of Essex, Middlesex, and the 
southern portion of Hertfordshire, which afterwards became 
known as the kingdom of Essex. 

Fourth, the West Saxons, who, headed by Cerdric, conquered 
the inhabitants of Surrey, part of Hampshire, Berkshire, Wilt- 
shire, Dorsetshire, Somerset, a portion of Devonshire and Corn- 
wall, (though long after this period) and finally, founded the king- 
dom of Wessex. 



88 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

Fifth, East Anglia, containing Norfolk, Suffolk, Cambridge, 
the Isle of Ely, and some portion of Bedfordshire, all included 
in the state or kingdom of East Anglia. 

Sixth, Deiri, which included the counties of Lancaster, York, 
Westmoreland, Cumberland, and Durham. 

Seventh, Bernicia, where Ida first landed, and which ex- 
tended from Northumberland into Scotland, somewhere between 
the rivers Forth and Tweed. 

Eighth, and last, Mercia, which swallowed up the chief portion 
of the midland counties, and was divided into the north and 
south by the river Trent, though all were within the limits of the 
dominion of Mercia. Such were the kingdoms that formed the 
Saxon Octarchy, and which w r ere no sooner established, than 
one state began to wage war against the other, in which they 
were occasionally aided by the Britons. 

Hitherto we have had to feel our way cautiously along the 
shores which skirt the dark sea of History, and have been com- 
pelled to put into many a creek and harbour at a venture, as 
abler mariners have done before us; but, in no instance have we 
stirred, without consulting the compass and carefully examin- 
ing the chart which Gildas, Nennius, and Bede, those ancient 
voyagers, have drawn up as a guide, and which Turner and 
Mac Cabe* have carefully examined, and marked anew every 
point that is dark and doubtful. 

Many events transpired before the final establishment of the 
Saxon Octarchy, which we have hurriedly passed over as being 
of little importance, and which to have narrated would have 
carried us again over the ground already traversed. Of such are 
the deaths of the Saxon kings or chiefs; the contests that arose 
in selecting a successor, and the bickerings and breakings out, 
which were necessarily consequent upon the formation of so 
many separate states, for few of them could be called kingdoms. 
Nor must we suppose, that in all cases where the conquerors 
settled down, the ancient inhabitants fled before them — many, 
doubtless, remained behind, and gradually intermixed with 
the Saxons; of such, probably, would be those who had grown 
civilized under the Roman government, and were skilled in 

* A Catholic History of England. By V\ T illiam Bernard Mac Cabe. Care- 
fully compiled from our earliest records, and purporting to be a literal transla- 
tion of the writings of the old chroniclers, miracles, visions, &c. from the time 
of Gildas ; richly illustrated with notes, which throw a clear, and in many 
instances a new light on what would otherwise be difficult and obscure passages. 



ESTABLISHMENT OF THE SAXON OCTARCHY. 89 

the arts and manufactures, and had still continued to improve 
in agriculture, ever since the time of Agricola. Men possess- 
ing this knowledge, and acquainted with these secrets, would, 
beyond doubt, be tempted to reside amongst the invaders; 
and we shall soon arrive at a period, which will show that 
civilization had tamed down the martial spirit of the Saxon, as it 
had before-time done that of the Britons, and that they were for 
a long season as apparently helpless under the attacks of the 
Danes, as the ancient inhabitants of the island were under their 
own repeated assaults. It would be a work of great labour, and 
one that would require an acute analysis, to trace, step by step, 
this degenerative process. Many of the Britons emigrated. "We 
have shown that twelve thousand, under a free king, Riotha- 
mus, went out to war against the Visigoths, but it would only be 
carrying us into the history of other countries were we to follow 
their footsteps. Even the Britons that remained behind, though 
dispossessed of nearly the whole of their country for a long time, 
" bated not a jot of heart nor hope;" they clung to their old pro- 
phecies, and, through the dark night of oppression, saw the ruddy 
streak which they believed would ere long break into the bright 
morning of vengeance, when they should drive the Saxons before 
them triumphantly out of Britain. Strengthened by this belief, 
they fought many a battle which we have not recorded, and even 
when defeated, it was only to retire to their " stony paradise," 
as their bards called Wales, and there await the breaking of that 
bright morning which had so long been foretold. There is some- 
thing wild and beautiful in the very idea of this never-to-be- 
realized hope; it forms a prominent feature in the character of the 
Welsh population to this very day, though now turned into a 
feeling, which arms them, better than any other, against the lesser 
evils of life. They are ever in the hope of seeing " better days." 
We can readily fancy that every rumour of the outbreak amongst 
the Saxon tribes, must have been received with as much acclaim 
in their mountain fortresses, as would the first note awakened 
by Aneurin or Llywarch when they struck their harps. We 
can picture the eagerness with which they hurried down, to aid 
one Saxon chief to make war upon another, scarcely caring 
which chief conquered, so long as they themselves escaped, and 
believing that the body of every enemy which they left in the field 
was a unit nearer to the fulfilment of their fancied Millennium. 
They never lacked a leader, if an attack was contemplated, and we 



90 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

probably err not in surmising that many an onset was made 
after the night had been consumed " by the light of the rushes," 
and while they were brimful of valour and " pale mead," and 
heated by the lay which some bard less renowned than Aneurin 
chanted. Cattreath may not be the only instance in which the 
wearers of the " golden torques," the ensign of nobility, fell. Still 
there seems to have been a hearty faith in the ancient Cymry, 
which endears them to us, and in nothing was this evinced more, 
than in their belief of the predictions of their bards. A pale ray 
of light, like the lingering of a subdued smile, falls upon our page 
whilst we write, as we contrast the " then " with the " now." 
The bards of other days were kings, chiefs, and renowned war- 
riors; their harps raised them to these dignities: the bards of the 
present age are bards only, and however great their fame, can 
only receive due honour by first passing through the gate of 
death. The extracts with which we have enriched this chapter 
show the appreciation of the beautiful, in a barbarous age, and 
oh ! let not this sentence be forgotten. All that we know of the 
lives of many of those ancient British kings, who were great and 
renowned in their day, is what has been preserved in the lays of 
our early bards; but for these, their very names would have 
perished, and Urien himself would never again have awakened 
the throb of a human heart. The cold contempt of the proud 
and the haughty, chilled not the heart of the true minstrel; with 
his harp in his heart, he ever goes, making music his companion, 
when there is none beside to hear it; and the notes he often care- 
lessly scatters behind him, if of the true tone, are never lost. A 
thousand years pass away, and they still ring as freshly about the 
heart as those which we have here gathered, and which Lly warch, 
above thirteen hundred years ago, poured forth between his sighs, 
when he mourned for the loss of his chieftain, for there is a 
sadness about the dirges which we yet feel. The monuments 
of brass, of iron, and marble, have ages ago decayed or mouldered 
away, yet the echoes which arose from that ancient harp have not 
yet died. Time destroyeth all things excepting the Immortality 
of the Mind. 



91 

CHAPTER XII. 

CONVEESION OF ETHELBERT. 

" The oracles are dumb, no voice or hideous hum 
Runs through the arched roof, in words deceiving. 
Apollo from his shrine can no more divine, 
With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. 
No nightly trance or breathed spell 
Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell." 

Milton. 

It will be readily supposed that many of the early Saxon chief- 
tains, or kings, for it matters not by which title we call them, 
had by this time died, and been succeeded by their sons and 
kinsmen. That many had also perished in the wars with the 
Britons we have already shown, and now when the Octarchy 
was established, and the ancient inhabitants of the country were 
either conquered or driven into one corner of the island, when 
it might be expected that Peace had at last alighted and taken 
up her abode in the land, the Saxon sovereigns began to war 
with each other. We have before shown that when the Saxons 
went out to battle, they with one consent selected a king — no 
matter how high might be the rank of those who had sworn to 
serve under him, they obeyed his commands ; when the war was 
over, each again stepped into his former dignity, and the power 
thus given for a time to the war- king was at an end. Some 
such king was acknowledged by the Saxon sovereigns, and he 
was called the Bretwalda, or king of Britain, though it is not 
clear that the other sovereigns ever paid him any homage, and 
the only inference we can draw from the claim set up by 
Ethelbert, the young king of Kent, is, that it was conferred 
upon that prince who was the nearest akin to Woden. Some- 
thing of the kind is shadowed forth in the claim, which is 
grounded alone on his descent from Hengist. Ella, king of 
Sussex, appears to have been the first who bore the title of 
Bretwalda in Britain; he died, and it seems as if some time 
elapsed before any other of the Saxon kings assumed the title; 
the next that did was Ceawlin, king of Wessex. Ethelbert of 
Kent rose up, and disputed the claim. Ceawlin was not a man to 
be moved from his high estate by the descendant of Hengist, and 



92 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

from this dispute sprang the first civil war between the Saxon 
kings. Ethelbert was but little more than sixteen, when he 
so daringly threw defiance in the face of the king of Wessex, and 
Ceawlin was at that time one of the most powerful of all the 
Saxon kings, and, after having defeated Ethelbert, he, on the 
death of Cissa, king of Sussex, annexed that kingdom to his 
own; nor was there a sovereign throughout the whole Saxon 
states bold enough to wrest the plunder from his hand. For a 
youth like Ethelbert to have thus bearded so powerful a king, 
and to have been the first to commence hostilities, and finally 
to have succeeded in gaining the envied title, evinces a courage 
and a perseverance which draw the eye anxiously forward to 
watch the result of his future career, nor shall we be disap- 
pointed in the issue. But, before passing to the most important 
event in his life, we must detail the circumstances by which it 
was brought on. 

One day, as a monk named Gregory was passing through the 
market of Rome, looking, like others, on the great variety of 
treasures which were piled there, and for which nearly every 
corner of Europe had been ransacked, he was struck by a group 
of beautiful boys. There was something in their white naked 
limbs, fair complexions, and light long flowing hair, which at 
once arrested the eye of the kind-hearted monk. He turned to 
a keen-eyed merchant who was awaiting a purchaser (and who 
had probably many other things beside these beautiful boys to 
sell), and inquired from what country they had been brought? 
He was answered, Britain. The next question he asked was 
whether the inhabitants were Christians or Pagans? He was 
told that they were Pagans. Gregory sighed heavily when he 
heard this, and, as he fixed his eye with a tender and pitiful 
look upon these fair and beautiful slaves, he exclaimed: "Oh, 
grief of griefs ! that the author of darkness should lay claim to 
beings of such fair forms — that there should be so much grace 
in the countenance, yet none in the soul.'' 

"When told that they were of the race of the Angles, he said 
they were worthily named, for their faces were angelic; and 
w T hen informed that the province from which they came was 
called the Deiri, he paused — divided the word, dwelt upon it, 
then exclaimed, "De-ira Dei (from the wrath of God) they 
must be torn." But when he further heard that the king of the 
country from whence they came was named Ella, the beautiful 



CONVERSION OF ETHELBERT. 93 

picture which had opened before his imagination, merely con- 
jured up from the ideas created by suggestive sound, was com- 
plete, and, in his happy enthusiasm, he exclaimed, "Hallelujah! 
the praise of God must yet be sung in that land." Imagine the qui- 
vering lip and tearful eye which would first show the impression 
of a kind-hearted man and a scholar, when told that these fair 
children had been dragged from their homes, and brought from 
a distant island, far away over the sea, and stood there huddled 
together, seeking to avoid the merciless eye of the unfeeling 
merchant, who found them the most troublesome part of the 
cargo he had brought, for the bales he probably sat upon 
required no feeding, and as a point of business he had been 
compelled to keep those young slaves plump and in good 
order, and doubtless, while showing them to the monk, he 
made them display themselves to the best advantage. They, 
struck by the kindness which must have beamed, like a 
glory, around the countenance of the good monk Gregory, per- 
haps wished that they might be purchased by so friendly- 
looking a master, for they would be unable to comprehend a 
single word he said beyond the names of their country and 
kings. The quivering lip and tearful eye would soon change 
into the lighted look of enthusiasm, as, bit by bit, the Pagan 
island rose before the fancy of the tender-hearted monk, as he saw 
their beautiful heathen mothers and fairer sisters kneeling 
before senseless stocks and stones; and oh! what a chill must have 
come over his kind heart when the pope, whom he entreated to 
send missionaries into that heathen land, rejected his petition. 
Still it prevented not good Gregory from purchasing the slaves, 
who had so deeply interested him. He further clothed and 
educated them, and would, had he not been prevented, have 
accompanied them on their return to Britain. 

Monk Gregory, at last, became the Roman pontiff; but the 
splendour by which he was now surrounded altered not his gentle 
nature; he remembered those beautiful barbarians, — had many a 
time thought of their island home over the waves, and the fair 
mothers who looked in vain for their return; and he solicited a 
monk, to whom he had doubtless before-time confided this wish, 
which ever seems to have been nearest his heart, to undertake 
the journey; and Augustin was chosen to fulfil this mission. The 
monks who were appointed to attend Augustin in his mission 
had heard such rumours of the ferocity of the Saxons, that they 



94 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

expressed a desire to return to Rome, although they had pro- 
ceeded some distance on their journey; and they so far gave way 
to their fears as to prevail upon Augustin to go back and solicit 
the pope to recal them. The pontiff, however, told them that to 
abandon an undertaking which they had commenced was more dis- 
graceful than if they had not accepted it; bade them proceed in 
God's name, appointed Augustin abbot over them, and commanded 
them to obey him. Further, he gave them letters to the prelates 
and kings through whose countries they would, have to pass. 

To the daughter of Charibert, king of the Franks, Ethelbert 
was married; and although she was a Christian, and he a pagan, 
it had been no bar to their union; Bertha was to follow her own 
creed, Ethelbert his: he bowed before Woden, she acknowledged 
the existence of the true God. Vortigern and Rowena had lived 
together on the same terms before-time. Augustin arrived in 
Britain, with his train of fifty monks and interpreters, which the 
king of the Franks had provided, and landed in the isle of 
Thanet. How different the intent of his mission to that of the 
Saxon chiefs who had landed there a century and a half before 
him! They came to kill, to earn their wages by bloodshed; these 
came to save, and were neither armed with spear, sword, nor 
battle-axe; their only shield was the cross of Christ, and on their 
banner the figure of the Redeemer was borne. They came 
with no other war-cry than the Litany which they chanted as 
they moved gravely along. What glorious scenes illustrative 
of the progress of our religion yet remain to be painted! How 
easy to picture that ancient procession as it passed: their landing 
from the ship: their prayer offered up on the beach: the misbe- 
lieving Saxons looking on in wonder: some priest of Woden 
pouring into the ear of a listening chief a disparaging story: the 
countenances of children looking on with a mixture of fear and 
wonder: heathen mothers pitying the figure upon the banner, 
and wondering what he had done to be nailed upon the cross; or 
perhaps thinking that they had come to solicit aid against those 
who had been guilty of such inhuman cruelty, and their motherly 
hearts at once enlisted in favour of the strangers, who came to 
seek the means of vengeance for such an outrage. Or perhaps 
they pitied the poor monks w T ho had no arms to defend them- 
selves, and entreated their husbands to assist them. Such 
fancies would naturally float over their benighted minds, for at 
what other conclusions could they arrive from what they now 



CONVERSION OF ETHELBERT. 95 

saw? Doubtless the ship, when first seen out at sea, would 
awaken other thoughts, and many an armed figure paced 
the shore impatiently, and awaited the arrival of the vessel, 
drawing circles upon the sand with their pointed weapons, to 
while away the time, as they stood ready to offer up fresh 
victims on the altar of Odin. 

Ethelbert received the tidings of their coming rather coldly, 
but still not unkindly; he bade them to remain where they 
were, supplied them with such things as their immediate wants 
required, and promised, in the meantime, to consider what he 
would do for them. The bright eyes of Bertha had had their 
influence; her sweet voice had made an inroad into the stony 
heart of Ethelbert; but for her beautiful face, he would pro- 
bably have consigned the whole race of trembling monks to 
Neiflheini and Hela the terrible, or offered them up as a rich 
sacrifice to Odin. But even Bertha, great as her power appears 
to have been over him, could only influence him in their favour 
by slow degrees; he deliberated for several days before he con- 
sented to meet them, and when he did at last agree to a confer- 
ence, he chose the open air, — still true to his ancient faith, for 
there he had been taught to believe that all magical influence 
was powerless. How looked he when he first beheld them? — 
Perhaps he clung to the fair Christian that stood by his side, and 
as she pressed his arm, and he felt that she also was of the same 
faith, the colour mounted his cheek for a moment, and, as it 
would appear, his heart half reproached him for having treated 
them so coldly, for he at once kindly commanded the missionaries 
to sit down. Doubtless the spot chosen for this interview was 
a circle surrounded with seats of turf, such as the Saxons 
assembled in, in the early ages, when their witena-gemots were 
held in the open air. Surrounded with his nobles, the king 
listened attentively until Augustin had made known the object 
of his mission. Ethelbert, who was endowed with clear judg- 
ment, waited patiently till the abbot had finished, and then 
answered: " Your promises are fair, but new and uncertain. I 
cannot abandon the rites which my people have hitherto observed; 
but as you have come a long way to tell us what you believe to 
be true, we will not only hold you harmless, but treat you hos- 
pitably. Nor will we forbid any one you can convince to join 
in your faith." Such was the substance of Ethelbert's answer; 
a more candid or a kinder one never issued from a pagan's lips; 



96 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

but those lips had been breathed on by the prayers of Bertha, 
and her own rounded roses had kissed their way into his heart; 
he had found the honey that hung upon them, far sweeter than 
the richest sacrifice that ever steamed up from the altars of 
Woden. Ethelbert gave them a church in Canterbury, which 
was built in the time of the Romans. The British Christians 
had there bowed to their Maker; it had been Bertha's place of 
worship, and was probably the only one in the wide county of 
Kent where prayers to the true God were offered up, — where she 
herself had many a time, amid hopes and fears, prayed for the 
day to come which had at last arrived. She, a stranger in a 
foreign land, far away from the home of her fathers, surrounded 
by pagan altars and the hideous images of rude idols, had never 
once despaired, as she leant, like Hope, upon her anchor, with 
no one near to comfort her, but even while the hymns of Odin 
rang upon her ear, in the midst of her devotions, had kept her 
eye fixed upon the star which was mirrored in the troubled 
waters that washed around the cold anchor, and chilled her 
naked feet. 

In this ancient British church, Augustin and his monks 
administered the rites and ceremonies of the Christian religion 
unmolested, — numerous converts were soon made, and baptised, 
and chief amongst these was king Ethelbert. As a proof of his 
earnestness and sincerity, the newly converted Saxon sovereign 
granted the monks permission to repair all the British churches 
in his kingdom, which had before-time been devoted to Christian 
worship. The pope also conferred on Augustin the title of 
archbishop, and sent him over a pall, woven from the purest and 
whitest lamb's-wool, and chequered with purple crosses, that, 
when worn over his shoulders, it might remind him of Christ 
the good Shepherd, and of the crosses and perils he endured in 
bringing home the lost sheep on his shoulders, and gathering 
them together in the fold. But vestments for the altar, sacer- 
dotal garments, sacred vessels, and relics of martyrs, were not 
all that Gregory sent over to Britain; for manuscript Bibles, 
copies of the Gospels, psalters, and legends of the saints and 
martyrs, were among the more substantial treasures which the 
learned pope poured into our island, and some of which our own 
immortal Alfred translated with his own hand in a later day. 
The bindings of many of these manuscripts were emblazoned 
with silver images of our Saviour, and glittering glories of yellow 



CONVERSION OF ETHELBERT. 97 

gold, from the centre of which blazed precious stones, so that when 
uplifted by the priest, who stood high above their heads as he 
expounded the holy mysteries, their eyes were dazzled by the 
splendour of those richly bound volumes, and their senses im- 
pressed with a solemn reverence, as they looked upon the image 
of their Eedeemer. He also sent over other fellow-labourers, 
and amongst these were men distinguished for their piety and 
learning. Gregory was a man endowed with great discernment, 
possessing also those peculiar qualities which have ever marked 
the profoundest statesmen; in these essentials he stood high 
above his archbishop Augustin. The far-seeing pope knew that 
he had to deal with a race of idolaters, many of whom would 
change their creed to please their sovereign, or from other inter- 
ested motives; and, conscious of the purity of his own design and 
the holiness of his cause, he resolved that there should be no- 
thing startling or forbidding, or much at variance with their 
ancient customs, in the outward signs and ceremonies of the 
Christian religion. With a liberality of opinion far outstriding 
that of the age, he rightly concluded, that whatever was not really 
evil in itself, it was useless to abolish. Let them retain their 
sacrifices, argued Gregory; when the idols are removed, and the 
remembrance of them destroyed, let them slaughter their cattle, 
sacrifice, and feast upon the offering, and thank God for his 
great abundance. What mattered it if on saint-days they erected 
arbours of green branches around the church, feasted, and made 
merry within them, so long as it was done in remembrance of 
the saint to whom the building was dedicated? Surely this was 
better than holding such celebration in honour of senseless idols. 
Even their pagan temples he would not allow to be hurled down, 
conscious that if such places had been held sacred while set apart 
for the worship of graven images of wood or stone, they would 
be doubly revered when the light of the true gospel broke in 
glory within those ancient walls. 

Pope Gregory had, doubtless, become acquainted with the 
principal points of their heathen faith, and had concluded that if 
only rapine and slaughter, and brave but brutal deeds, had been 
extolled within those walls, and were the sure passports that 
opened the envied halls of Valhalla, he might safely venture to 
wrestle with this pagan idol, and overthrow him upon his own 
ground: that the doctrines which breathed only of peace and 
goodwill, and love and charity, and holy faith in a dying Redeemer, 

VOL. I. H 



98 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

would still be the same if offered up from the very altars on which 
Odin himself had stood. It was the substance and the spirit 
which dawned upon the great intellectual eye of Pope Gregory, 
and made him tread boldly amongst the broken idols which lay 
scattered at his feet, where others would have hesitated to have 
moved. He daringly grafted the true faith upon a heathen stock, 
well knowing that neither the stem nor the soil would militate 
against the growth of the goodly fruit with which the branches 
would on a future day be hung. Gregory would never have 
entered into that fatal controversy beneath the oak, as Augustin 
had done, about the celebration of Easter Sunday, and which, if 
it did not lead to the slaughter of the monks of Bangor, as 
some have believed, lessened the archbishop in the eyes of the 
English priests, and caused much dissension and bitter feeling 
amongst the Saxons. But Ethelbert, Bertha, and Augustin died; 
and Eadbald became king of Kent. 

Eadbald took possession of his father's throne and widow at 
the same time; for, after the death of Bertha, Ethelbert had 
married another princess of the same nation as his former wife. 
The priests raised their voices, and denounced the marriage of 
Eadbald with his step-mother; he heeded them not, but turned 
pagan again, and a great portion of his subjects changed their 
religion with him. Sigebert, the king of Essex, his father's friend, 
who had become a Christian, also died about this time, and his 
sons again embraced their old heathen creed, though they still 
occasionally visited the Christian church. They were one day 
present while the bishop was administering the Eucharist: 
" Why dost thou not offer us that white bread which thou art 
giving to others," said they, " and which thou wert wont to give 
to our father's sib?" The bishop made answer, that if they 
would wash in the same font in which their father the king was 
baptized when he became a Christian, they might partake of 
the white bread. They replied, that they would not be washed 
in the fountain, yet they demanded the bread. The bishop 
refused to give it them, and the heathen chiefs drove the 
monks out of Essex. Some of them went into Kent, others 
left Britain for a time; and as the remnant were on the eve of 
departing, Eadbald, by a strange interposition, again renounced 
his pagan faith, and intreated the priests to remain behind, 
promising also to assist them, as his father Ethelbert had before 
done, in the work of conversion. Whether it was a dream, or 



EDWIN, KING OF THE DEIRI AND BERNICIA. 99 

the reproaches of his own conscience, or the penance which 
Laurence had inflicted upon himself, before he again appeared 
in the presence of Eadbald, or the working of His mighty- 
hand " who moves in a mysterious way his wonders to perform," 
can never be known. Suffice it that the Saxon king saw the 
" error of his ways" and repented. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

EDWIN, KING OF THE DEIEI AND BERNICIA. 

" How oft do tbey their silver bowers leave 
To come to succour us that succour want; 
How oft do they with golden pinions cleave 
The flitting skies, like flying pursuivant, 
Against foul fiends to aid us militant ; 
They for us fight, they watch, and duly ward, 
And their bright squadrons round about us plant, 
And all for love, and nothing for reward ; 
Oh ! Why should heavenly God to men have such regard." 

Spenser's Faery Queen. 

Bernicta and the Deiri formed, at this period, two Saxon 
kingdoms, which lay bordering on each other. Ethilfrith 
governed the portion that stretched from Northumberland to 
between the Tweed and the Frith of Forth; and Ella, dying, 
left his son Edwin, then an infant, to succeed him as king of 
the Deiri — a part of England now divided into the counties of 
Lancaster, York, Westmoreland, Cumberland, and Durham. 
The Northumbrian king, Ethelfrith, appears at this time to 
have been the most powerful of all the Saxon monarchs; and no 
sooner was Ella dead, than he took possession of the Deiri; nor 
was a sovereign to be found throughout the whole of the Saxon 
kingdoms bold enough to draw his sword in the defence of Edwin. 
The child was, however, carried into Wales, and entrusted to 
the care of Cadvan, who was himself a British king, though 
now driven into the very corner of those territories over which 
his forefathers had for ages reigned. There is something 
romantic in this incident of the child of a Saxon king having to 
fly to his father's enemies for shelter, and in being indebted to 

h2 



100 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

those whom his own countrymen had rendered all but homeless, 
for his life. Ethelfrith, however, had at one period desolated 
more British districts than any of his predecessors, and in pro- 
portion as he was hated by the Cymry, so would they endeavour 
to cherish an object armed with such claims as Edwin's, in the 
hope of one day seeing him a leader, and at their head, when 
again they measured swords with their old enemies. But this 
they were not destined to witness, nor were they able to protect 
the young king when he grew up, for Ethelfrith was ever in 
pursuit of him — the figure of the stripling Edwin seemed to 
stand up between him and the kingdom of Deiri, as if he felt 
that, whilst the son of Ella was alive, he but sat insecurely in the 
midst of his new territory. For several years Edwin was com- 
pelled to wander about from province to province, keeping both 
his name and rank a secret, and trusting to strangers to protect 
him, as if he feared that the emissaries of Ethelfrith were ever 
at his heels — until even his existence seems to have been a burthen 
to him, and he doubtless many a time cursed the hour that ever 
he was born the son of a king. From infancy had his life been 
sought, by one who ought to have defended him when he was 
left a helpless child, and heir to the possessions his father had won 
by conquest — by murder; for sorry we are, as true historians, 
to state, that not a Saxon king throughout the whole British 
dominions could trace his origin to any other source: nor had 
William the Norman, on a later day, any better claim to the 
British crown. The title of royalty was ever in ancient times 
written with a red hand. Thank Heaven! it is no longer so, 
nor has the brow which a golden crow r n encircles, any need now 
to be first bathed in human blood. 

Edwin is somehow endeared to us, through having descended 
from that king whose name attracted the attention of monk 
Gregory in the slave-market of Rome, when he was first struck 
by the beauty of those British children; for they came from the 
Deiri, the kingdom which he governed, whose name called forth 
the Allelujah to which the good monk, in the joyousness of his 
heart, as he saw the figure of Hope glimmering brightly in the 
far distance, gave utterance. From very childhood Edwin's 
life was a romance, and many a painful feeling must he have 
endured whilst sheltering amongst the Britons in Wales, who 
were then writhing beneath the oppression of their Saxon con- 
querors: allusions to his own father, or his kindred, or curses 



EDWIN, KING OF THE DEIRI AND BERNICIA. 101 

heaped upon his countrymen, must ever have been issuing from 
the lips of the humbled Cymry; and who can tell but that to 
avoid these painful feelings, he set out alone — a stranger amid 
strangers. Weary of this wandering life, he at last threw him- 
self upon the generosity of Redwald, king of East Anglia, and 
who was at that time honoured with the proud title of the Bret- 
walda of Britain, as Ethelbert of Kent had been before. Edwin 
acquainted him with his secret, and Redwald promised to 
protect him. But his hiding-place was soon known to Ethel- 
frith, who lost no time in sending messengers to Redwald, first 
with the offer of rich presents, then with threats: and when he 
found that neither persuasion nor bribes were effective, he 
determined to wage war against the king of East Anglia, unless 
he at once gave up Edwin. Redwald at last wavered, for in 
almost every battle the Northumbrian king had been victorious; 
nor would he probably have seized upon the Deiri, in the face 
of six powerful Saxon sovereigns, but for the consciousness of 
the strength he possessed, and the terror attached to his name. 
The East Anglian king at last reluctantly promised to surrender 
his guest. Edwin had a friend in Redwald's court who made 
him acquainted with the danger that awaited him, and urged 
him at once to escape. But the poor exile, weary of the miser- 
able existence he had so long led, and the many privations he 
had endured, refused to fly for his life. " If I am to perish," 
said the young king, "he that destroys me will be disgraced, 
and not myself. I have made a compact with Redwald that I 
will not break. And whither should I fly, after having wan- 
dered through so many provinces in Britain without finding a 
shelter? How can I escape my persecutor?" His friend was 
silent, and left Edwin to sit alone and brood over his own 
thoughts. Night came and found the sorrowful king still sitting 
upon the same cold stone beside the palace, where he appears to 
have fallen asleep, and to have dreamt that a strange figure 
approached him, placed his hand upon his head, and bade him 
to remember that sign; after having caused him to make 
several promises as to what he would do in future, if restored 
to his kingdom, the stranger seemed to depart, having 
first held out hopes that he should conquer his enemies, and 
recover the territory of Deiri. There was nothing very won- 
derful in such a dream, beyond the fact that it should afterwards 
become true; and, although we cannot go so far as the venerable 



i02 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

chronicler Bede, in the belief that some spirit had appeared to 
the young king — still dreams and visions are so interwoven with 
the sleep that resembles death, and seem, somehow, more allied 
with the shadows which we believe to people another state of 
existence, that we can easily imagine, at that dark period, how 
firm must have been the reliance of our forefathers upon the 
phantoms which were thus conjured up, by the continuation of 
such a train of waking thoughts. 

Such miracles as the early monkish historians devoutly 
believed in, the boldest writer would scarcely venture to work 
out in a book professedly treating of only the wildest subjects 
of fiction. Yet there are amongst the writers of history those, 
who think it an act of dishonesty to pass over the dreams, 
visions, and miracles of the early ages, and a want of faith not 
to believe in them now, as our forefathers did in the olden time. 
They might as well insist upon our copying out the recipes 
from such old works as were to be found in the closets of our 
grave grandmothers many generations ago; and adopting all 
the spells and charms therein recorded, as invaluable cures for 
almost every disease under the sun. What we look upon as 
firm faith in one age, and believe to be such, we treat as the 
weakest folly in another, without in either case outraging 
reason, or bringing to the investigation an uncharitable spirit. 
For past credulity, a sigh or a smile are enough to mark our 
pity or censure, but to be partakers of the same belief are 
thoughts against which the common understanding rebels, even 
much as we may love the marvellous. A dream is not a 
miracle, nor the fulfilment of it a proof of the interference of the 
Almighty. 

The young king had found favour in the eyes of the queen of 
East Anglia, and she reasoned with Redwald, and boldly showed 
him how base an act it would be, to give up their guest to the 
man who, having robbed him of his kingdom, now sought to 
take away his life. " A king should not violate his faith," said 
she, "for gold, for good faith is his noblest ornament." 
Redwald's heart seems ever to have guided him aright when he 
admitted not fear into the counsel, so he nobly resolved, instead 
of giving up his guest, to fight for him, and in place of basely 
selling his life, to win him back the province he had been driven 
from. And, after such a resolve, he doubtless felt himself more 
worthy of the title of the Bretwalda of Britain. We regret 



EDWIN, KING OF THE DEIRI AND BERNICIA. 103 

that Time has not even spared us the name of this noble Saxon 
queen, that we might add one more woman to the list of these 
angelic immortalities, who stand like stars upon the brow of the 
deep midnight, that then hung so darkly above the clouded cliffs 
of Albion. When Redwald had once decided, he began to act; 
he waited not to be attacked, but, with such forces as he could 
muster, rushed at once to the boundary of the Deiri. He met 
Ethelfrith, ere he was wholly provided for his coming, on the 
banks of the river Idel, near Retford, in Nottinghamshire, at 
that time probably a portion of the kingdom he had wrested 
from Edwin. Redwald had his guest, his honour, and his 
kingdom to fight for: Edwin his life, and the possessions he 
inherited from his father — Ethelfrith, a long-cherished vengeance 
to appease — a kingdom he had seized upon without any one 
having before dared to dispute his claim — and East Anglia, now 
a fair prize, if he could but win it: he had a bad cause, yet not 
a doubt about obtaining the victory, for he had many a time 
driven the Picts and Scots, with whole hosts of the Cymry, 
banded together, before him, further to the north than any, 
excepting the Romans, had ever before done. His dreams had 
never been broken by the thought of a defeat, even when the 
monks of Bangor were praying against him; he conquered, and 
drove the British kings before him like withered leaves before a 
storm when the yellow Autumn is waning into Winter. No 
Christian fire had ever burnt upon his pagan altars — to Woden, 
tlie god of battles, had his sacrifices ever been offered up. 
Redwald, more vacillating, kept two altars in the temple in 
which he worshipped, — one dedicated to the grim idol which his 
warriors still believed in — the other where he at times knelt 
beside his fair queen, and sent up his wavering prayers, between 
the shrine of Woden, and the True God. No truer picture was 
probably ever drawn of the state of these truly pagan and half- 
Christian Saxons in the early times, than is here presented; that 
mingled fear of offending Woden, while the heart yearned for 
the love of Him whom they believed to be the Giver of all 
good, for God and good were in their language the same. 

Before commencing the battle, Redwald divided his forces into 
three divisions; one of these he placed under the command of his 
son, Rainer, and the wing which the young prince headed, com- 
menced the attack. Ethelfrith commanded his veteran forces to 
dash at once into the centre of the enemy's line ; and so suddenly 



104 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

and unexpectedly was this manoeuvre accomplished, that it was 
like the instantaneous bursting of a thunder-storm down some 
steep hill side, covered over with the tall and yellow-waving corn 
of summer, through which the torrent and the tempest cut a path, 
for so was the division under prince Rainer dispersed, driven 
aside and cut asunder, that before the two bodies led on by Red- 
wald and Edwin had time to wheel round, and check the force of 
that mighty avalanche, the prince was slain, and scarcely a war- 
rior, who but a few moments before had charged so cheerfully 
under his war-cry, remained alive. 

For a few moments the terrible tide of battle rolled backward, 
seeming to recoil from beneath the very force with which it had 
broken, as if the vanward waves but rushed again upon those 
that followed, to be driven on with greater might upon the de- 
solated and wreck-strewn beach. Back again was the overwhelm- 
ing tide borne with mightier force, and thrown off in a spray of 
blood from the points of ten thousand unflinching weapons, while 
Redwald himself, with lowering brow, and lip compressed, strode 
sullenly onward, and hewed his way into the very heart of the 
contest. Ethelfrith, outstripping his followers, rushed headlong 
into the very centre of the battle; the gap he had hewn with his 
own powerful arm closed behind him, and there stood between him 
and the remains of his army, an impenetrable wall of the enemy — 
where he fell, the last billow of the battle broke, for the companion 
waves had rolled out far to seaward, and only the shore over 
which they had broken was left, strewn over with the wrecks of 
the slain. Death had at last done his mighty work; and under 
his dark and awful banner Edwin had distinguished himself; 
those gloomy gates had opened the way to the kingdom from 
which he had so long been driven. Through the assistance of 
Redwald, he not only became the king of the Deira, but con- 
quered the broad provinces of Bernicia, driving before him the 
sons of Ethelfrith, and sitting down sole king of Northumbria, for 
he united under his sway the kingdoms which Ida had governed, 
and Ella, his father, had won. Thus, the youth who had so long 
been a wanderer and an exile, who scarcely knew where to fly 
for shelter, who was ever in fear of his life, became at last the un- 
disputed monarch of two mighty Saxon kingdoms, the Deira and 
Bernicia. 

Edwin no sooner found himself firmly seated on the throne of 
Northumbria, than he sent into Kent, and solicited the hand of 
Edilburga in marriage. She was the daughter of the late Ethel- 



EDWIN, KING OF THE DEIRI AND BERNICIA. 105 

bert, so distinguished for his kindness to the Christian mis- 
sionaries. Probably Edwin had become acquainted with her 
while he wandered " homeless, amid a thousand homes." Her 
brother Eadbald had, by this time, become a Christian, had 
hurled down his heathen idols and pagan altars, and established 
himself beside the church at Canterbury, which had long been 
the metropolis of Kent. Eadbald justly argued, that it was 
wrong for a Christian maiden to become the wife of a pagan 
husband, of one who could neither share with her the holy sacra- 
ment, nor kneel down to worship before the altar of the same 
Holy God. Edwin bound himself by a solemn promise that he 
would offer no obstacle to the royal lady following her own faith, 
but that all who accompanied her, whether women, priests, or 
laymen, should have full liberty to follow their own form of re- 
ligion; and that if, upon close examination by the wise and good 
men of his own faith, he found the Christian creed better than 
that of Odin, he might at last adopt it. The Saxon princess had 
the fullest confidence in the promise of the pagan king, and with 
a long train of noble and lowly attendants, headed by Paulinus, 
who was by this time created a bishop, she left the home of her 
fathers in Kent, and as Rowena had beforetime done, went to 
sojourn among strangers. Many a prayer was offered up by the 
way, and the holy rites of the church to which she belonged were 
daily celebrated. Timidly must the maiden's heart have beaten 
when she first set foot within that pagan land; but she probably 
remembered the time when many of her father's subjects were 
idolaters. 

Nothing for the first year seems to have ruffied the smooth 
course of love between the pagan king and his Christian queen. 
Paulinus continued to preach, but made no converts; and the 
love of Edilburga, and the worship of Odin, went on together 
hand in hand; for though Edwin himself listened to the music of 
lips as sweet as those of Bertha, which had murmured conversion 
into the ears of Ethelbert, yet his creed remained unchanged. He 
loved, listened, and sighed, with his heathen faith still unshaken. 
It was at the holy time of Easter, while Edwin was seated in his 
palace beside theDerwent, that a messenger suddenly arrived from 
Cwichhelm, the pagan king of Wessex, and sought an audience, 
to make known his mission. He was, of course, admitted. While 
kneeling lowly to deliver his message, the stranger suddenly 
started up, drew forth a dagger which was concealed under his 



106 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

dress, and was in the act of rushing upon the king, when Lilla, 
a thane in attendance, threw himself, in a moment, between the 
body of the monarch and the assassin — -just in that brief interval 
of time which elapsed between the uplifting and the descending 
of the weapon; yet with such force was the deadly blow driven 
home, that the dagger passed clean through the body of Lilla, and 
slightly wounded the king. Although the swords of the attend- 
ants were instantly drawn, yet the assassin was not cut down 
until he had stabbed another knight with the dagger, which he 
had drawn from the body of the faithful thane who so nobly 
sacrificed his life to save that of the king. On the same even- 
ing, (it was Easter Sunday,) Edilburga was delivered of a 
daughter — the event probably hastened by the shock the 
murderer had occasioned. Edwin returned thanks to Odin for 
the birth of his child; and when Paulinus again drew his atten- 
tion to the God who had so miraculously preserved his life, he 
promised he would follow the new faith which the bishop was 
so anxious to convert him to, if he was victorious over the king 
of Wessex, who had sent out his emissary to destroy him. 
Edwin further consented that his daughter should be baptized, 
as an earnest of his good faith. Several of his household were 
at the same time united to the Christian church. 

The account of Edwin's campaign against the king of Wessex 
is so very vague and uncertain, that we are compelled to pass it 
over altogether. It appears, however, that he slew his enemy 
and returned home victorious — still he delayed his baptism, 
although he abandoned his idol-worship, and might often be seen 
sitting alone, as if holding serious communion with himself; still 
he was undecided whether or not to change his ancient faith. 
He also held long and frequent conversations with Paulinus, and 
had many serious discussions with his own nobles. He was 
even honoured with a letter from the pope, urging him to 
abandon his idols. Edilburga also received a letter from the 
same high authority, pointing out her duty, to do all that she 
could, by her intercession, to hasten his conversion; but Edwin 
still remained unchanged. The stormy halls of Odin and the 
boisterous revels in which the spirits of the departed warriors 
were ever supposed to partake, were more congenial to the 
martial hearts of the Saxons, than the peace, humility, and gen- 
tleness which clothed the Christian religion. A vision or a 
miracle is again called in by the venerable Bede to complete the 



EDWIN, KING OF THE DEIRI AND BERNICIA. 107 

conversion of Edwin. This we shall pass over without openly 
expressing a feeling of doubt or disbelief. The means which 
the Almighty might take to bring about the conversion of a 
heathen nation are beyond the comprehension of man. We 
doubt not the light which fell upon and surrounded Saul, when 
breathing slaughter against the Christians whilst he was on his 
way to Damascus, for there we at once acknowledge the wonder- 
working hand of God. It required no such powerful agency 
for Paulinus to become acquainted with Edwin's previous dream. 
Nor does there appear to have been anything miraculous in the 
token which the king was reminded of; neither was the incident 
at all so startling as it first appears to be, for he had beyond 
doubt made Edilburga acquainted with the subject of his dream, 
and what would not a woman do, to accomplish the conversion 
of a husband she loved? Even after all, Edwin assembled his 
nobles . and counsellors together openly, to discuss the new 
religion before he was baptized, for the vision or miracle had not 
yet dispelled his doubts. 

"When Edwin assembled his pagan priests and nobles toge- 
ther, and threw open before them the whole subject, Coin, 
who had long administered the rites at the altar of Odin, and, as 
it appears, reaped but little benefit, thus spoke out, plainly and 
feelingly, at once. (We trust Edilburga was not present.) 
" You see, O King, what is now preached to us; I declare to you 
most truly, what I have most certainly experienced, that the 
religion which we have hitherto professed, contains no virtue at 
all, nor no utility. Not one of your whole court has been more 
attentive to the worship of your gods than myself, although 
many have received richer benefits, greater honours, and have 
prospered more than I have done. Now, if these gods had been 
of any real use, would they not have assisted me, instead of 
them? If, then, after due inquiry, you see that these 'new 
things' which they tell us of will be better, let us have them with- 
out any delay." Coin was weary of waiting for the good things 
which stood ready prepared for him in the halls of Valhalla; he 
wanted to have a foretaste whilst living. 

But we will leave plain-spoken Coin* to introduce the next 
orator, who was one of Nature's poets, though a pagan ; and the 
passage is doubly endeared to us, by the knowledge that on a 
later day, Alfred the Great translated it, word for word, and let- 
ter for letter. We regret that we cannot give the original, for 



108 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. 

there are many words in it which seem out of place, such as we 
believe the eloquent orator never uttered, although Bede lived 
about this time, and probably heard it from the lips of some one 
who was present when it was spoken. It ran nearly as follows : 
" The life of man while here, O King, seems to me, when I 
think of that life which is to come, and which we know not 
of, like a scene at one of your own winter feasts. When you 
sit in your hall, with the blaze of the fire in the midst of it, and 
round you your thanes and ealdermen, and the whole hall is 
bright with the warmth, and while storms of rain and snow are 
heard out in the cold air, in comes a small sparrow at one door, 
and flies round our feast; then it goes out another way into the 
cold. While it is in, it feels not the winter storm, but is warm, 
and feels a comfort while it stays; but when out in the winter 
cold, from whence it came, it goes far from our eyes. Such is 
here the life of man. It acts and thinks while here, but what it 
did when we saw it not, we do not know, nor do we know what 
it will do when it is gone." He then finished by adding some- 
thing about the new religion, and prayed of them to adopt it, if 
it was more worthy of their belief, and opened clearer views re- 
specting a future state than the old. 

Paulinus was present, and when he had satisfactorily answered 
all questions, a fearful feeling still seemed to linger amongst the 
pagans, as to who should first desecrate their old temple, and 
overthrow the idols and altars before which they had so long 
worshipped. " Give me a horse and a spear," said Coifi, " and 
I will." They were brought to him. We cannot help picturing 
Coifi in his eagerness to get rid of the old religion, nor how 
Paulinus, with his dark hair, hooked nose, swarthy countenance, 
and darker eyes, just looked for a moment at Edwin, as the 
pagan priest hurled his spear at the idol temple, and profaned it. 
" The people without thought him mad." What Coifi thought 
of the people is not on record. He knew what the idols were 
better than they did. Witness the results of his own experience; 
for day after day, and year after year, had he administered to the 
shrine, yet received no reward ; and doubtless Coifi thought 
that, let the new religion be what it might, it could not be worse 
than the old one. When he had hurled his spear against the 
temple, it was profaned, and could never more be dedicated to 
the worship of Odin; for such an act was held impious by the 
ancient Saxon pagans. The building was then destroyed, and 



EDWIN, KING OF THE DEIRI AND BERNICIA. 109 

the surrounding enclosures levelled to the ground. This scene 
took place near the Derwent, not far from the spot where Edwin 
had so narrow an escape from the assassin Eumer. In Bede's 
time it was called Godmundham, or the home of the gods. 
After this, Edwin and his nobility were baptized, and through 
his persuasion, the son of his protector, Redwald, embraced 
Christianity, and diffused it amongst his subjects in East Anglia. 
Edwin himself, as we have shown, had in his younger days been 
a wanderer and an exile; and although we have no account of the 
privations he endured, they were doubtless great, and perhaps 
we should not much err in surmising that many a time he had 
endured the pangs of hunger and thirst : for on a later day he 
caused stakes to be fastened beside the highways wherever a 
clear spring was to be found, and to these posts, brazen dishes 
were chained, to enable the weary and thirsty traveller to re- 
fresh himself. For houses were then few and far apart, and 
the wayfarer had often to journey many a dreary league before 
lie could obtain refreshment, as the monasteries were the only 
places in which he could halt and bait. In Edwin's reign, and 
through his kingdom, it is said that a woman with an infant at 
her breast might walk from the Tweed to the Trent without 
fearing injury from any one. He seems to have been beloved 
by all, and Edilburga ever moved beside him like a ministering 
angel. 

But Edwin was not destined to go down peaceably to his grave; 
some quarrel arose between him and the son of his old Welsh 
host, Cadvan: what the cause was, we know not; it, however, led 
to a severe battle, and as it was fought near Morpeth, it is evident 
that the Welsh king was the invader. Edwin was, as usual, 
victorious, and chased Cadwallon into Wales. Some time after 
this event, there sprang up a renowned pagan warrior amongst 
the Saxons, named Penda, who governed the kingdom of Mercia, 
a portion of Britain that up to this period scarcely attracts the 
Historian's attention. This Mercian king, Cadwallon prevailed 
upon to unite his forces with his own, and attack the Northum- 
brian monarch. The battle is believed to have taken place at 
Hatfield Chase, in Yorkshire, at the close of autumn in the 
year 633; in it king Edwin was slain, together with one of his 
sons, named Osfrid. Most of his army perished — a clear proof 
of the stern struggle they made to conquer. Cadwallon, and his 
ally, Penda, the pagan king, overran the united kingdoms of 



110 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

Northumbria, desolating the Deiri and Bernicia in their march, 
and spreading terror wherever they appeared. Edilburga escaped 
with her children into Kent; Paulinus accompanied her, for the 
Christian churches appear to have been the chief objects which 
the Mercian monarch sought to destroy. 

The world seemed to have no charms for Edilburga after the 
death of her royal husband. Her brother, Eadbald, the king of 
Kent, received her kindly and sorrowfully: the widowed queen, 
by his consent, built a monastery at Liming, and afterwards took 
the veil. 

Such was the end of the beautiful daughter of Ethelbert, she 
who when a girl had many a time seen Augustin at her father's 
court, and doubtless looked with childish wonder on the holy 
banner which the missionaries bore before them, whereon the 
image of the Blessed Redeemer was portrayed, when they first 
appeared in Kent. Upon the death of Edwin, the kingdom of 
Northumbria was again divided. Osric, a descendant of Ella, 
ascended the throne of the Deiri, and Eanfrid, the son of Ethel- 
frith, whom Edwin had driven into exile, reigned over Bernicia. 
Osric soon perished, for Cadwallon still continued his ravages, 
and while the king of Deiri was besieging a strong fortress which 
the Welsh monarch occupied, an unexpected sally was made, and 
in the skirmish Osric was slain. Eanfrid met with a less glorious 
death, for while within the camp of Cadwallon, suing for peace, 
he was, even against all the acknowledged laws of that barbarous 
age, put to death. This Welsh king appears to have been as 
great a scourge to the Saxons as ever king Arthur was in his 
day, nor does his old ally, Penda, seem to have been a jot less 
sparing of his own countrymen; — but his doings will form the 
subject of our next chapter. 

In fourteen battles and sixty skirmishes is Cadwallon said to 
have fought, and so odious was the last year in which he dis- 
tinguished himself — so blotted by his ravages and the apostasy of 
many of the Saxon kings, that Bede says, the annalists, by one 
consent, refused to record the reigns of these renegades, so added 
it to the sovereignty of Oswald. The most important event that 
we have to record in his reign was the victory he obtained over 
Cadwallon, which occurred soon after he was seated upon the throne 
of Bernicia. Oswald was already celebrated for his piety, and 
previous to his battle with the Welsh king, he planted the image 
of the cross upon the field, holding it with his own hands, while 



PENDA, THE PAGAN MONARCH OF MERCIA. Ill 

his soldiers filled up the hollow which they had made in the earth 
to receive it. When the cross was firmly secured, he exclaimed, 
" Let us all bend our knees, and with one heart and voice pray 
to the True and the Living God, that He in His mercy will de- 
fend us from a proud and cruel enemy : for to Him it is known 
that we have commenced this war, for the salvation and safety of 
our people." All knelt, as he had commanded, around the cross, 
and when the last murmur of the solemn prayer had died away, 
they marched onward with stouter hearts to meet the terrible 
enemy. Of the battle we have scarcely any other record than 
that which briefly relates the death of Cadwallon and the 
destruction of his army. The spot in which the cross was planted 
was called " Heaven-field," and was for ages after held in great 
reverence. But neither the piety of Oswald, nor his victory 
over the Welsh king, could protect him from the wrath of 
Penda: and the scene of our history now shifts to the kingdom 
of Mercia, which, up to this time, had seemed to sleep in the 
centre of the Saxon dominions: for those who had settled 
down in the midland districts had, with the exception of Crida, 
scarcely left so much as a name behind, and he is only known 
as the grandfather of Penda. To the deeds of the latter we 
have now arrived, and he who assisted to slay five kings, is 
the next stormy spirit that throws its shadow upon our pages. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

PENDA, THE PAGAN MONARCH OF MERCIA. 



" The gates of mercy shall be all shut up : 
And the fleshed soldier, — rough and hard of heart, — 
In liberty of bloody hand, shall range 
With conscience wide as hell : mowing like grass 
Your fresh fair virgins and your flowering infants." 

Shakspeare. 

Hitherto the kingdom of Mercia has scarcely arrested our 
attention, but the time at last came when it was destined to rise 
with a startling distinctiveness above the rest of the Saxon states, 
under the sovereignty of Penda. As the midland counties bor- 



112 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

dered upon the Deiri, it is not improbable that Mercia had been 
subject to the sway of the more northern monarchs, until the 
grandson of Crida appeared, and, struck by its fallen state, re- 
solved at once to raise it to its true dignity. We have seen him 
before figure in the battle where he joined Cadwallon, and over- 
threw the once-powerful Edwin; then he gained but ane nipty 
victory, he now resolved to retrace his steps and reap a more sub- 
stantial harvest or perish in the attempt. Above sixty years had 
already rolled over his head, yet for military skill and talent he 
had scarcely an equal, and when, ten years before, he was crowned 
king of Mercia, many foresaw that his would be a terrible 
reign; he had linked himself with the British — daringly thrown 
down his gauntlet and challenged allcomers; no one was found 
bold enough to pick it up. Wherever he appeared, Mercy fled 
with a shiver, and Hope placed her fair hands before her eyes 
to weep: from step to step did he advance as he grew grey in 
crime, still glorying in the hoariness of his iniquities. Bold, 
ambitious, and cruel, he sought out danger wherever it was to 
be found, and attacked Power in the very heart of his stronghold; 
he knew only Mercy by the name of Death, nor shunned he the 
fate to which he consigned others. He hated not the Christians 
who adhered rigidly to the tenets of their new creed, but if they 
halted between two opinions, he abhorred them; while on his 
part he worshipped Odin, and never left the altars of his grim 
war-god dry for want of a victim. Endowed with a strong and 
fearless mind, and a body that age only seemed to harden, he 
led the way from battle to battle, and victory to victory, while 
the neighbouring kiDgs looked on and trembled. No marvel 
that such a conqueror found ready allies amongst the Cymry, or 
that they were ever eager to join him when he required their aid, 
while he in return seems to have stood ready armed for any 
cause, that might chance to fall in his way, and but for his 
assistance to Cadwallon, Edwin might probably have died an 
old man in his bed, with Edilburga and his children kneeling 
beside him. But ambition was the rock on which nearly all these 
ancient kings were wrecked; the open ocean was not wide 
enough for them; wherever it was rumoured that danger lurked, 
there they at once steered — they deemed it but cowardly to wait 
for the coming of death, so seized the helm and sailed boldly out 
to look for his dark dominions. To be chained to the domestic 



PENDA, THE PAGAN MONARCH OF MERCIA. 113 

hearth was to them a misery, the bark of the old hound, and the 
recognising nutter of the familiar hawk, and the prattle of children 
became weary! weary! Old household affections but palled; 
Edilburga might smile, and Paulinus pray, but the tramp of the 
war-horse, and the ringing of the sword upon the buckler, and the 
clang of the battle-axe, as it cleaved its way through helmet and 
armour, were sweeter sounds than these; the spirit within but 
yearned for the sleep which was purchased by a dearly won victory; 
even the eyes of grey-headed old men brightened when the con- 
test was talked over in which they had fought, and they went out 
of the hall, tottering at every step, to bask in the sunshine, and 
sigh over the deeds done in those M good old times." Weari- 
some was the morning light to their eyes, which dawned not 
upon the tented field; they loved better to see the banner of the 
red dragon of the Britons waving upon some distant height, 
opposite to which their own standard of the white horse fluttered, 
than to watch the motion of the trees, or the rustle of the yellow 
corn, or to hear the bleating and the lowing of " the cattle upon a 
thousand hills:" to such belonged Penda, the ruler of Mercia. 

Whether the death of Cadwallon, the British king, with 
whom Penda's forces were allied when Edwin was defeated at 
the battle of Hatfield-ckase, caused the Mercian monarch 
to invade Bernicia, to revenge his fall and defeat, or whether 
the love of conquest alone induced Penda to undertake this 
expedition, is not recorded, neither is it clearly made out that 
he was not present at the battle in which Cadwallon was slain. 
Whatever were his motives, he attacked and slew Oswald, with- 
out any apparent cause of quarrel, and in him perished one of 
the best of the Northern kings. It is said that while the barbed 
javelin which caused his death was still fixed in his breast, 
he never for a moment ceased to pray; and that for centuries 
after his death his name was ever linked with the following 
pious sentence: "May the Lord have mercy on their souls! as 
Oswald said, when he fell on the battle-field." It is also 
recorded of Oswald that one day, as he was about to partake of 
the refreshments which were placed before him in a silver dish, 
the almoner, whose office it was to relieve the poor, stepped in 
and informed him that a number of beggars were waiting with- 
out soliciting alms : — when his eye alighted upon the rich vessel 
in which the dainties were piled, the thoughts of their wants, and 
his own unnecessary luxuries, rose before him with so striking 

VOL. I. I 



114 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

a contrast, that he ordered the untouched food to be distributed 
amongst the beggars, and the silver dish to be broken up and 
given to them; yet Penda caused the head and limbs of this 
pious and charitable king to be severed from the body, trans- 
fixed on stakes, and exposed to the public gaze. He then 
marched through Northumbria, spreading death and desolation 
wherever he trod; attacked the castle of Bamborough, and, 
unable to carry it by storm, demolished all the buildings in the 
neighbourhood, and piled up the wood and thatch around the 
strong fortress, and then set fire to the ruins he had heaped 
together. Fortunately for the besieged, the wind changed just 
as the fiames began to rise, and the eddying gust blew back the 
blazing ruins upon the besiegers. Penda then turned his back 
upon Northumbria, and we next meet with him in Wessex, 
where he makes war upon Cenwalch, for some insult the latter had 
Offered to Penda's sister; Cenwalch is driven out of his kingdom, 
remains in exile three years, and then returns, having doubtless 
reconciled himself to the Mercian king. When he had finished 
his work in Wessex, and Sigebert had resigned his crown, he 
directed his steps to East Anglia, for Redwald had long since 
slept with his fathers: he had also founded a school, from which it 
is not improbable the present University of Cambridge sprung; 
and having given his kingdom to his kinsman Ecgric, and built a 
monastery, into which he at last retired, he had long since taken a 
farewell of all his greatness. But Sigebert had been renowned in 
his day; and now danger was knocking at the door, the East An- 
glians were unwilling that an old warrior should be pattering his 
prayers when he ought to be wielding his battle-axe; and it is 
recorded that his former subjects drew him forcibly out of the 
monastery, and compelled him to lead them on against Penda. 
With only a white wand in his hand, and probably robed in his 
monkish habiliments, the old soldier took the command of the 
battle; his religious scruples, however, preventing him from 
using any warlike weapon. We can almost picture him, pale 
with his ascetic life, for no one had adhered more rigidly to the 
monastic rules than he had done, standing with his white wand 
uplifted amid a throng of warriors, pointing to the most salient 
points of the opposing army, with a martial glimmer just light- 
ing up for a moment the cold grey eye, which for years had 
only contemplated that glory which he hoped to enjoy beyond the 
grave. We can imagine the sudden contrast of sounds — from 



PENDA, THE PAGAN MONARCH OF MERCIA. 115 

the low muttered prayer, or the holy hymns chaunted within the 
walls of his monastery, to the shout, the rush, the struggle, and 
the clanging of arms. Nor is it difficult to picture the look of 
contempt with which the pagan king Penda would gaze upon 
his ghostly opponent, or to imagine the bitter jeers to which 
the hardened heathen would give utterance as he wiped his 
bloody battle-axe, and gazed upon the monk-king and his 
crowned kinsman, as they lay together amid the slain — for both 
Sigebert and Ecgric fell, and their whole army was routed or 
slaughtered by the hitherto invincible Penda. 

Anna succeeded Ecgric, and Sigebert; but scarcely was he 
seated upon the perilous throne of East Anglia, before the 
pagan warrior again made his appearance; for although Penda 
was now an old man, grey-headed, and eighty years of age, 
he could no more live without fighting than he could with- 
out food. Anna had been guilty of sheltering Cenwalch, 
the king of Wessex, after Penda had dethroned him; an 
unpardonable offence in the eyes of the hoary old heathen ; 
so he marched once more into East Anglia, and slew him. He 
had by this time sent five kings and thousands of their followers 
as offerings to Odin, and not yet satisfied, he resolved once 
more to visit the northern kingdoms, for the pleasant vallies 
which stretched on either side the Trent had no charms for 
Penda. The "thirty-armed river," as Milton has called it, could 
not retain him within its boundaries ; he liked not the air of our 
midland counties, so set off to pay another visit to the Deiri or 
Bernicia, with every mile of which he was doubtless familiar. 
He had grown grey in fighting battles, had been a king thirty 
years, and during the whole period was either preparing to 
attack, marching, or fighting. The old chroniclers compare 
him to a vulture, a wild beast, ravenous for prey, and one whose 
chief delight w r as in the clashing of arms, and the shedding of 
human blood. 

After having slain Oswald and brut ally exhibited his remains, he 
appears to have paid frequent visits to Oswy, who succeeded him. 
But Oswy had no disposition to fight, and therefore enedavoured 
to keep the quarrelsome old Mercian quiet by exhausting the 
Northumbrian treasury. Growling like a tiger, Penda refused 
to accept all the treasures he could heap together; he was 
neither to be bought over by gold nor prayers; he came to fight, 
and fight he would; he seemed like a drunken man who is de- 

i2 



116 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

termined to quarrel, even if he has to run his head against the 
first post he meets with. He had come, he said, to extirpate 
the whole race of the Northumbrians — the Deiri, Bernicia, and 
all — he came to kill. 

When Oswy found that all entreaties were in vain, he mus- 
tered his forces together, which were far inferior to Penda's in 
number. Before commencing the battle, Oswy vowed, like 
Jephthah of old, that if he obtained the victory, he would dedi- 
cate his daughter to the service of the Lord; and having formed 
this resolution, he issued forth to meet the mighty man-slayer, 
who had hitherto scarcely sustained a single defeat. The North- 
umbrian, with a heavy heart, divided the command of his little 
army between himself and his son Alfred. The battle took 
place somewhere in Yorkshire, but where cannot now with cer- 
tainty be pointed out; it was in the neighbourhood of a river, 
and not far distant from York. The contest was terrible ; the 
army under the command of Penda appears to have been made 
up of Britons and Saxons, some of whom were dragged re- 
luctantly into the battle, and but waited the first favourable 
moment to turn their arms against the dreaded chieftain. The 
low land in the rear of Penda's army was flooded; beyond, the 
deep-swollen river was already roaring as if in expectation of its 
prey. Penda charged as usual — hot, eager, and impetuous, as if 
the victory was already his own; but the old man's arms were 
not so strong as they had been, — he could not see his way so 
clearly as he had done beforetime. Odilwald, who occupied a 
favourable position, had not yet stirred a step. It seems as if 
one portion of Penda's mighty force was jealous of another ; 
there was the river roaring behind, and Oswy bearing down 
upon them before. Midway all was confusion, and in the midst 
of it stood Penda, blinded with fury, and bleeding from his 
wounds. Over the dying and the dead trampled the victorious 
army of Oswy. Over Penda they trod, who lay upon the ground 
a hideous mass, his grey head cloven open by a blow from a 
battle-axe. None paused to survey him. Before the Northum- 
brians the routed host rushed onward, onward, until the ringing 
of armour, and the clashing of blade upon blade, sunk into a 
gurgle, and a moan, and a splash ; and still the river tore on 
its way, as if in haste to make room for more. Downward the 
defeated plunged, into deep beds, where the hungry pike slept, 
and the slimy eel lay coiled. The flooded fields were manured 



PENDA, THE PAGAN MONARCH OF MERCIA. 117 

with the dead; hideous sights which many a rich harvest has 
since covered; the river-bed was clogged up with the bodies of 
the slain, which fishes fed upon, and winter rains at last washed 
away — rich relics to pave the floor of that gloomy hall, where 
Hela the terrible reigned. If ever there was a clattering of 
skulls in Valhalla it was then ; or if Odin ever rushed out with 
open arms, to meet the bloodiest of his worshippers, it was 
when the soul of Penda came. What a crimson country is 
ours ! what rivers of gore has it taken to make our green Eng- 
land what it is! No marvel that even the rims of our daisies 
are dyed crimson by contact with such a sanguinary soil. 

Oswy, after this unexpected victory, now overran Mercia, and 
subjected it to his sway. His daughter Alchfleda he also gave 
in marriage to Peada, the son of Penda, and installed him in his 
father's kingdom, on condition that he should introduce Chris- 
tianity into his dominions. Alfred, the son of Oswy, in return 
married the daughter of Penda, whose name was Cyneburga. 
Thus on each side a pagan was united to a Christian, and the 
work of conversion went on prosperously; for there were now 
but few corners of the British dominions in which the true faith 
was not introduced. Such changes were enough to make the 
stern old Saxon heathen leap out of his grave. In his lifetime no 
one would have been found bold enough to have proposed them. 
Alchfleda's mother was still living, and remained a firm follower 
of the old idolatrous creed; she seems to have accompanied her 
daughter into Mercia, and had doubtless in her train many a grey 
old veteran, who still bowed the knee before the altars of Odin, 
and who looked upon a religion which taught peace, good will, 
and charity to all mankind, with disdain. It is not clearly made 
out by whose instigation Peada was assassinated. Both his wife 
and her mother stand accused of the deed, but no cause is 
assigned for the former perpetrating so dreadful a crime; nor can 
any other reason be assigned for the latter having done it, beyond 
what we have given. Peada, however, fell at the holy time of 
Easter, which seems to have been a favourite season for assassi- 
nation amongst the pagan Saxons, in proof of which numerous 
instances might be quoted. Before his death, Peada commenced 
the famous monastery of Peterborough, which his brother Wulf- 
here completed. Nor was Wulfhere content with only finishing 
the minster, for he gave to the Abbot Saxulf, to the monks, and 
their successors for ever, all the lands and waters, meads, fens, 



118 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

and weirs, which lay for many miles around it, and covered in 
extent what forms more than one English shire. Wulf here, like 
Sigebert, appears to have been as much of a monk as a warrior, 
though a little of old Penda's blood still flowed in his veins; and 
when Cenwalch, of Wessex, who had been humbled and dis- 
graced by Penda, resolved to have his revenge upon the son, 
although he was at first successful, the Mercians at last became 
conquerors, and Cenwalch was again exiled, and his kingdom 
fell into the hands of the Mercian sovereign. 

The king of Essex, about this time, made frequent visits to 
Oswy's court, and the Northumbrian sovereign lost no opportu- 
nity of dissuading him from following his idol worship. The 
arguments Oswy used, though simple, were convincing; he told 
him that such objects as were fashioned out of stone or wood, 
and which the axe or the fire could so readily destroy and con- 
sume, could not contain a Godhead. Such reasoning had the 
desired effect, and the king of Essex, together with numbers of 
his subjects, abandoned their pagan belief. The sovereign of 
Sussex was also converted through the instrumentality of Wulf- 
here, who was as eager to spread the doctrines of Christianity 
as his father had ever been to uphold the worship of Woden. 
Cenwalch, the king of Wessex, who, like so many others about 
this period, keeps crossing the busy stage at intervals, only to 
fill up the scenes, at length died, but whether in exile or not is 
uncertain. Saxburga, the widowed queen, stepped into the 
vacant throne; but the Wessex nobles refused to be governed 
bj a woman, although she wielded the sceptre with a firmer 
hand, and ruled the kingdom better than her husband had ever 
done; strengthening her forces, and ever holding herself in 
readiness in case of an invasion. Still there was ever some one 
amongst her nobles who shared her rule; and one of these, a 
descendant from the renowned Cerdric, led her forces against the 
king of Mercia. Essex was at this time under the sway of 
Wulf here, and it is likely enough that he looked with a jealous 
eye upon the bold front which Saxburga's kingdom presented, 
after the death of Cenwalch, who had been so frequently con- 
quered. A battle was fought in Wiltshire, in which neither 
party appear to have reaped any material advantage; and in little 
more than a year after the contest, both the leaders were in their 
graves. Oswy, the conqueror of Penda, had before this died, 
and his son Ecgfrid became the king of Northumbria, in which 



PENDA, THE PAGAN MONARCH OF MEECIA. 119 

the Deiri and Bernicia were now united. Alfred, who had 
married Penda's daughter, after having aided in destroying her 
father and his powerful army, at the battle in Yorkshire, was 
not allowed to succeed Oswy, on account of some flaw in his 
birth. Nearly all beside, of any note, who figured in this busy 
period, had passed away, excepting the last son of Penda, named 
Ethelred, who, after the death of Wulf here, ascended the Mer- 
cian throne. Ecgfrid fell in a battle against the Picts, though 
not before he had invaded Mercia, for although Ethelred had 
married his sister, it seemed as if the hostile blood which had so 
long flowed between the sons, Oswy and Penda, was not to be 
blended by marriage. The archbishop Theodore stepped in be- 
tween the combatants, and healed up the breach long before 
Ecgfrid perished. About this time, also, died Cadwaladyr, the 
last of the Cymry who aspired to the sovereignty of Britain. 
His death was the cause of a battle being fought. Similar un- 
important events make up the catalogue which closes the account 
of this period. The Saxon kingdoms seemed to stand upon an 
ever-moving earthquake: one was swallowed to-day, and cast up 
again on the morrow: the earth was ever rocking and reeling: 
kings came and went, as the images shift in a kaleidoscope. If 
one year saw a sovereign victorious, the next beheld him de- 
throned and an exile; he put on his crown, or laid it aside, just 
as his more powerful neighbour bade him. When fortune placed 
him uppermost, he retaliated in the same way on his former con- 
queror. Still we have before us the stirring times of Offa the 
Terrible; Egbert and Ethelwulf followed by the stormy sea-kings, 
whose invasions were more merciless than those of the Saxons; 
for the history of this period is like an ocean studded with 
islands, some of which lie near together, others wide apart; and 
many which, from the distance, seem to have a barren and for- 
bidding look, are, on a nearer approach, found rich in ancient 
remains; and though now silent and desolate, we discover in 
what is left behind traces of the once mighty inhabitants, that 
ages ago have passed away. Such is the history of the early 
Saxon kingdoms. Where an idle voyager would yawn and grow 
weary, his intelligent companion would linger, and gaze, and 
ponder in silent wonder and reverential awe. 



120 
CHAPTER XV. 

DECLINE OF THE SAXON OCTARCHY. 

" Let us sit upon the ground, 
And tell sad stories of the death of kings : — 
How some have been deposed, some slain in war ; 
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed ; 
Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed ; 
All murdered : — For within the hollow erown 
That rounds the mortal temples of a king, 
Keeps Death his court." — Shakspebe. 

The remainder of our journey through the kingdoms which 
anciently formed the Saxon Octarchy now lies in a more direct 
road, where there are fewer of those perplexing paths and wind- 
ing ways, such as we have hitherto been compelled to thread, in 
our difficult course through this dimly- discovered country of the 
Past. We are now on the sun-bright borders of those dark old 
forest fastnesses, amid which we could scarcely see what flowers 
were at our feet, or catch a clear glimpse of the outstretched 
sky that hung above our heads; a few steps from this, and we 
leave this land of twilight and uncertain shadows behind. After 
the death of Ecgfrid, Alfred, who is already distinguished as 
having fought in the battle in which Penda fell, and afterwards, 
as having married his daughter, ascended the throne of North- 
umbria. We have before shown how, on account of his birth, 
his succession was disputed by the nobles ; against their decision 
he offered neither defence nor resistance, but betaking himself 
to study, he so enriched his mind, under the instruction of the 
famous Bishop Wilfrid, that Bede classes him as first amongst 
the kings of Anglo-Saxons for his literary acquirements. He 
" waded not through slaughter to a throne," but calmly abided 
his time, and when it came, quitted his study to sway the sceptre. 
His court was the resort of literary men and enlightened travel- 
lers, and Aldhelm, the celebrated scholar of that day, stood high 
in his favour. There was a firmness about his character worthy 
of the name which afterwards becomes so endeared to us, for 
when he could not conscientiously agree in certain matters with 
his old tutor, Wilfrid, he allowed the bishop to quit his dominions, 



DECLINE OF THE SAXON OCTARCHY. 121 

nor had a letter from the Pope influence enough to alter his re- 
solution. Nothing of note appears to have occurred in North- 
umbria during his reign, for the expulsion of Eadwulf, and 
the ascension of Osred, were accomplished without difficulty. 
Ceolwulf came next, to whom Bede dedicated his Ecclesiastical 
History; but we must not step too suddenly into the familiar 
light which seems all at once about to break upon us. 

Ceadwalla, a descendant of the renowned Cerdric's, after the 
death of Ecgfrid, made a stand against the nobles of Wessex, 
who had banished him from that kingdom. He first attacked 
the king,of Sussex, slew him, and desolated his dominions. He 
then, accompanied by his brother Mollo, made an inroad into 
Kent, where they ravaged and destroyed the towns and villages 
for miles around. While Mollo, with several of his soldiers, 
were busied in plundering a house, they were surrounded by 
the enraged men of Kent, who, preventing the escape of the 
marauders, set fire to the building on every side, and burnt all 
within alive. The king of Wessex revenged his brother's 
death, and, far and wide, around the scene of this terrible sacri- 
fice, he made " a land of mourning." After this he went on a 
pilgrimage to Rome, was baptized by the Pope, and died the 
week after. 

Ina then ascended the throne of Wessex; his celebrated laws 
are still in existence, and as they throw considerable light upon 
the manners of this remote period, we will take a hasty glance 
at them before proceeding further. If a child was not baptized 
within thirty days after its birth, a penalty of thirty shillings 
was demanded; if that period elapsed and the ceremony was 
still neglected, the priest or the parents must forfeit all they 
possessed. If a slave or theow worked on Sunday by his 
master's commands, he became free; if a freeman worked on that 
day, by his own consent, he forfeited his freedom. If any one 
sold his servant, whether a slave or a freeman, he must pay his 
full value. If a poor man died, and left his wife with a child, 
six shillings a-year was to be paid for its maintenance, together 
with a cow in the summer, and an ox in winter — its kindred 
was to take charge of the house until the child became of age. 
If a man was killed, his life was valued according to what he 
was worth, and the slayer had to pay a fixed price for his death. 
Crude as these laws are, and barbarous as they prove the 
people to have been for which they were made, still they are the 



122 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

first landmarks, reared in a wild and uncivilized country, which 
point out to man the extent of his possessions and his power; 
the first attempt to draw an even line between might and right; 
for here the poor theow, the slave of the soil, he who was sold, 
like the cattle upon the estate, to the next purchaser, felt secure 
within his allotted mark. The clay of holy rest was his own; 
if his lord compelled him to labour, the laws of Ina, next day, 
made him a free man. Ina, like his predecessors, was compelled 
to fight his way to peace, and amid his hostilities, he became in- 
volved in a war with Ceolred, king of Mercia. His queen ap- 
pears to have been as courageous as himself, and is sai4 to have 
besieged one of her husband's enemies at Taunton, and to have 
levelled the castle in which he was sheltered to the ground. 
Ina rebuilt the abbey of Glastonbury, and endowed it with rich 
gifts. It seems to have grown a custom amongst the Saxon 
kings at this period, to go on pilgrimage to Rome, resign their 
crowns, and become monks. Ina's queen had long tried, but in 
vain, to induce her husband to follow what she considered such 
worthy examples; but her entreaties had hitherto proved useless. 
She at last hit upon the following device. A feast had been held 
in one of Ina's castles; and the morning after the banquet they 
went out together to ride; when they returned, she conducted 
Ina into the banqueting hall, which was now covered with 
filth, and occupied by a herd of swine, a litter of which was 
resting upon the very couch he had before occupied. Well 
might so sudden a change astonish him, and we can readily 
imagine the dark spot that gathered upon his angry brow. 
Such a mode of conversion would have startled either Augustin 
or Paulinus, and made even cunning Coifi pause before he 
changed his opinion. The queen pleaded guilty to the fault, 
and reasoned upon the matter as follows: " My lord," said she, 
" this is very different from the noise and hilarity of yesterday; 
there are no brilliant hangings now; no table weighed down with 
silver vessels, no delicacies to delight the palate, neither flat- 
terers nor parasites — all these have vanished like the smoke 
before the wind — have all passed away into nothingness. Ought 
we not, then, to feel alarmed, who covet them so much, yet are 
everyway as transient? Are not all such things so? and are we 
not ourselves like a river, that hurries headlong and heedlessly 
along to the dark and illimitable ocean of time? Unhappy must 
we ever be if we let such things occupy our minds. Think, I 



DECLINE OF THE SAXON OCTARCHY. 123 

entreat you, liow disgusting those things become of which we 
are so enamoured; and see what filthy objects we have become 
attached to; for in those filthy relics we may see what our 
pampered bodies will at last become. Oh! let us reflect, that 
the greater we have been, and the more powerful we now are, 
the more alarmed we ought to be, for the greater will be the 
punishment of our misconduct." 

Ina listened, sighed, resigned his crown, and set off for Kome, 
where he founded a school, and imposed a tax of a penny upon 
every family in his kingdom, which was called Homescot, and 
which went to support the institution he had raised. As a proof 
of his sincerity, he wore a common dress, lived meanly, cut his 
hair, laboured hard, and dwelt in retirement with his queen, 
until he died " a good old man." His brother, Inigils, had died 
a few years before him, a name that falls silent as snow upon 
the pages of History; yet like the snow, doing its silent work, for 
he must have been a man of some note in his day and generation, 
to have been the father of Egbert and the grandfather of Alfred 
the Great, from whom descended a long line of kings. 

The Mercian nobles rose up and put to death Ostrida, the 
wife of Ethelred their king, for what cause history is altogether 
silent; neither the why nor the wherefore is given — the sen- 
tence reads in the Saxon Chronicle like an epitaph upon a grave- 
stone, yet she was the daughter of the once powerful Oswy of 
Northumbria, and when destroyed, queen of the Mercians. The 
very mystery which hangs around her fate interests us, and we 
want to know something about what she had done to draw down 
such dreadful punishment, but all our inquiries are vain; beyond 
the mere entry of her violent death, not even a doubt is regis- 
tered, for us to pause over. The deed was done, and is recorded 
in one brief, terrible sentence, and we know no more. Her 
husband, Ethelred, abandoned the crown of Mercia to his nephew 
Cenred, and entered the monastery of Bardney, as a monk, going 
through all the routine of common duties, like a humble brother, 
until at last he rose to the rank of abbot in the monastery which 
he himself had founded. 

Ethelbald is the next king of Mercia who commands our 
attention. He had been nursed in the stern school of privation; 
like Edwin of Northumbria, he had been persecuted in his youth, 
and owed his life to Guthlac, the hermit of Croyland. Picture 
the warrior monk and the young king in those wild marshes — 



124 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

where no monastery was as yet built up, and where, upon that 
swamp, which was afterwards crowned with a splendid abbey, 
only a humble hut, and a rude cross of wood, were then to be 
seen. The stormy old warrior, Guthlac, who had done battle 
in many a hard-fought field, was at last weary of a soldier's life, 
and hearing that there was an island surrounded by a lake in 
a corner of Mercia, he got one of the rude Lincolnshire fisher- 
men to row him to the spot, where for some time he remained 
alone; here he was visited by Ethelbald, a man elegant in form, 
with a frame of iron, and a bold, undaunted spirit. There must 
have been some strange charm in the society of the soldier-monk, 
thus to have won over the young king to share with him such a 
solitude, for the marshes of Croyland must in those days have 
worn a most forbidding appearance, and even now, as they wave 
in summer, with their dark, coarse patches of goose-grass, and 
in some places, no stir of life is seen, excepting where the gos- 
herd drives before him his noisy flock, an air of melancholy 
reigns over the scenery, and the mind unconsciously wanders 
back among the shadows of the dead. Nor did Ethelbald, 
when he ascended the throne of Mercia, forget his exile, or his 
companion Guthlac, but gave the island of Croyland to the monks 
who had accompanied his friend, and preserved their piety 
amid all the privations which surrounded that solitude, and 
over the monument which the Mercian king erected to the monk, 
was afterwards built the monastery of Croyland. 

Ethelbald conquered Northumbria, and, aided by Cuthred, 
king of Wessex, obtained a victory over the Welsh; but although 
they had thus fought side by side, a spirit of jealousy lurked 
within each bosom, and the Wessex king only waited for the first 
favourable opportunity to throw off the mask, and free himself 
from the power of the Mercian monarch. Unforeseen circum- 
stances, for some time, prevented Cuthred from openly taking 
the field against Ethelbald; his son rose up in rebellion, and no 
sooner was he put down, than one of his nobles, named Edelhun, 
took up arms, and would have conquered Cuthred, had he not 
been wounded at the very time when the battle had turned in 
his favour. These rebellions Ethelbald is accused of having 
fomented. The rival kings at last met near Burford in Oxford- 
shire; Ethelbald had under his command the combined forces of 
Essex, Kent, East Anglia, and Mercia; Cuthred, the soldiers 
of Wessex alone, and the powerful arm of the former rebel, 



DECLINE OF THE SAXON OCTARCHY. 125 

Edeldun, who was now his friend. From Eoger de Wendover, 
we, with a few slight alterations, copy the following description 
of the battle, as being one of the most picturesque accounts 
which we have met with in the pages of the early historians : 
" The attack on each side was headed by the standard-bearers 
of the opposing king ; Edeldun bore the banner of Wessex, on 
which was emblazoned a golden dragon, and rushing forward 
with the ensign in his hand, he struck down the Mercian stand- 
ard-bearer, a daring deed which called forth a loud shout from 
the army of Cuthred. A moment after, and the noise was 
drowned by the clashing of weapons, the mingled din, and roar- 
ing, and shouting, which swelled into the prolonged thunder of 
battle, amid which, if a brief pause intervened, it was filled up 
by the shrieks and groans of the wounded and the dying, or the 
falling of some dreaded instrument which terminated the agony 
of death. Havoc spread like the destroying flames, into the 
midst of which the maddened masses plunged. Death and 
danger were disregarded; they fought as if the fate of a kingdom 
rested upon the blows dealt by each single arm. For a moment the 
sunlight fell upon a mass of dazzling arniour, gilding the plumed 
helmet, the pointed spear, the uplifted sword, and broad-edged 
battle-axe, and the rich banner, which, as it was borne onward 
amid the hurried charge, fluttered in gaudy colours, high over 
the heads of the eager combatants; a few moments more, and all 
this brave array was broken; another moving mass rushed onward 
in the thickest of the strife, the banner rocked and swayed, then 
went down; point after point the uplifted spears rose and sank, 
the helmets seemed as if crowded together; then the space which 
they occupied was filled up by others who passed onward, the 
moving waves heaved and fell, and passed along, while over all 
rolled that terrible sea of death which had swallowed up horse, 
rider, banner, sword, and battle-axe. Foremost in the ranks, 
stood Edeldun; wherever he moved, the spot was marked by the 
rapid circles which his ponderous battle-axe made around his 
head. At every stroke, death descended; wherever that terrible 
edge alighted, the hollow earth groaned, as it made room for 
another grave; no armour was proof against the blows which he 
dealt, for the fall of his arm was like that of a dreaded thunder- 
bolt that rives asunder whatever it strikes. Like two consuming 
fires, each having set in from opposite quarters and destroyed 
all that lay in their path, so did Edeldun and Ethelbald at last 



126 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

meet, flame hurrying to flame, nothing left between to consume; 
behind each lay a dead, desolated, and blackened pathway." Here 
we are compelled to halt; the sternest image we could gather 
from the pages of Homer, would still leave the idea of their 
meeting imperfect. Ethelbald fled, having first exchanged a few 
blows with his dreaded adversary. Wessex shook off the Mer- 
cian yoke, and Ethelbald never again raised his head so high as 
it had before been, when he looked proudly above those of the 
surrounding kings. Cuthred died, and the king of Mercia was 
soon after slain in a civil war in his own dominions. After his 
death, our attention is riveted upon the events which took 
place between these rival kingdoms, for the rest of the Saxon 
states, with scarcely an exception, were soon swallowed up in 
that great vortex, which at last bore the immortal name of Eng- 
land. 

After the death of Cuthred, the throne of Wessex was occupied 
by Sigebyhrt, whose reign was brief and unpopular; he paid no 
regard to the laws which had been established by Ina; he took 
no heed of the remonstrances of his subjects, but when Cumbra, 
one of the most renowned of their nobles, boldly proclaimed the 
grievances of the people, he was put to death. This was the 
signal for a revolt — the nobles assembled, the people were sum- 
moned to the council, and Sigebyhrt was deposed. Fearful of 
the vengeance of his subjects, the exiled king fled into the 
wild forest of Andredswold, where he concealed himself amid 
its gloomy thickets. Here it is probable that for a time the 
rude peasantry supplied him with food, and that the wild man 
of the wood was the whole talk and wonder of the neighbouring 
foresters. One day, however, he was met by a swineherd 
named Ansiam, who had doubtless seen him beforetime when he 
visited his murdered master Cumbra — the swineherd knew him 
at the first glance, and although he did not kill the king on the 
spot, yet he waited his time, and revenged his master's death 
by stabbing Sigebyhrt to the heart. He appears to have 
watched him to his hiding-place, and when the fallen king lay 
stretched upon his couch of leaves, under the shade of gloomy 
and overhanging boughs, the savage swineherd stole silently 
through the thicket, and with one blow sent the unhappy sove- 
reign to sleep his last sleep. As in the death of queen Ostrida, 
we find but a brief entry of his terrible ending in the old 
chronicles; he suited them not, was slain, cast aside, and so made 



DECLINE OF THE SAXON OCTARCHY. 127 

room for another, and Cynewulf, in whose veins the blood of 
Woden was believed to flow, reigned in his stead. 

We will now hasten on and make a brief survey of the state 
of Northumbria. Ceolwulf, the patron of Bede, resigned his 
crown for the quietude of the cloister. Eadbert succeeded to 
the vacant throne. Whilst he was warring with the Picts, his 
dominions were invaded by the Mercians; he reigned for 
twenty-three years, then retired to a monastery, making the 
eighth Saxon king who had voluntarily laid aside the crown for 
the cowl. It is said that the fate of Sigebyrht and the fall of 
Ethelbald caused him to contrast their turbulent ending with 
the peaceful death-bed of Ceolwulf — a strange change was thus 
wrought in the minds of these old Saxon kings — the glory of 
Woden had departed; no eager guests now rushed to the ban- 
quetting-halls of Valhalla; they looked for other glories beyond 
the grave. Osulf succeeded his father to the throne of North- 
umbria, scarcely reigned a year, and was treacherously slain. 
Taking no warning by his fate, Edelwold was bold enough to 
accept the crown; as usual, the path from the throne to the 
tomb was but a brief step, and he perished. Another and 
another still succeeded. Aired, a descendant of Ida, stepped 
into the empty seat, just looked around, and was driven out of 
the kingdom. Then Ethelred came, put two of his generals to 
death on the evidence of two others, when, a few months after, 
the accusers turned round upon him, conquered him, and drove 
him from the throne. He fled like Aired. Alfwold was the 
next king that came to be killed; he just reigned long enough to 
leave his name behind before he bade the world " good night." 
Osred next mounted, made his bow, was asked to sit down, then 
driven out. Ethelred was beckoned back again; he came,, 
stabbed Eardulf, who had aspired to the crown, and left him 
bleeding at the gate of a monastery; dragged the children of 
Alfwold from York, and slaughtered them; put to death Osred, 
who, like himself, had been deposed, and just when he thought 
he had cleared away every obstacle, and was about to sit down 
upon the throne which he had stuffed with the dead to make it 
more easy, his subjects rewarded him for what he had done by 
slaying him. He was followed by Osbald, who sat trembling 
with the crown upon his head for twenty-seven days, but not 
having reigned long enough to merit death, he was permitted 
to retire into a cloister. Eardulf, whom we left bleeding at the 



128 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

gates of the monastery, was taken in and cured by the monks, 
fled to Rome, was received by Charlemagne, and at last placed 
upon the throne of Northumbria, where he had not sat long 
before his subjects revolted. The crown and sceptre of North- 
umberland were then thrown aside — men shunned them as 
they would have done a plague; the curse of death was upon 
them, no man could take them up and live. " Death kept his 
court" within the one, and when he wielded the other, the gold 
had ever pointed either to the grave or the cloister. From such 
a murderous court numbers of the nobles and bishops fled — the 
throne stood vacant for several years; no man was found bold 
enough to occupy it. The sword which ever hung there had 
fallen too often — not another Damocles could be found to ascend 
and survey the surrounding splendour from such a perilous 
position. 

In looking over this long list of natural deaths, murders, and 
escapes which took place in one kingdom after the abdication of 
Eadbert, we have but recorded the events which occurred within 
forty short years, from seven hundred and fifty-seven to about 
seven hundred and ninety. From the landing of Hengist and 
Horsa, about three centuries before, nearly one hundred and 
fifty kings had sat upon the different thrones of the Anglo- 
Saxon kingdoms. The bulk of these are unknown to us 
excepting by name; we can with difficulty just make out the 
petty states they reigned over, and that is nearly all. Some 
died in the full belief of their heathen creed, with a firm faith 
that from a death-bed in the field of battle to the brutal immor- 
tality which their bloody deeds had merited was but a step, and 
that their happiness hereafter would consist in feasting and 
holiday murders in the halls of Woden. Others calmly breathed 
their last with their dying eyes fixed upon the cross of Christ, 
while the anchor of their faith sunk noiselessly into the deep 
sea of death, and their weary barques were safely moored in 
that tranquil harbour where neither waves beat nor tempest 
roared, and where, at last, the " storm-beat vessel safely rode." 
What a fearful history would those three centuries present if it 
could but be truly written — if we could but have the everyday 
life of those all but unknown kings! forgotten as their very 
graves are, and scattered their ashes into dust, which ages 
ago mingled imperceptibly with the breeze, and was blown 
onward, unseen and unfelt. Yet there was a time when even 



DECLINE OP THE SAXON OCTARCHY. 129 

the meanest and the most unknown marched in pomp to the 
Pagan temple, or lowly Christian church, when before them the 
noisy heralds went, and the applauding mob swelled behind, and 
rude as the crown and sceptre might be, and all the barbaric 
pearl and gold, still the holy oil was poured forth, and solemn 
prayers offered up, and the whole witena-gemot, with the 
neighbouring nobles, were assembled together, and the little 
world around them for days after talked only of the coronation 
of the king. Thousands at their command had mustered in 
battle, high nobles had bowed their heads before them; on a 
word from their lips life or death frequently hung; valour and 
beauty were gathered around their thrones, and, when they rode 
forth in grand procession, the wondering crowd rushed out to 
gaze, — even as it does now. Edwin, with his banner borne 
before him, and Offa, with his trumpets sounding in the streets, 
were as much a marvel above a thousand years ago, as her 
present Majesty is in the provinces in our own time. Yet 
there are many in the present day who think it a waste of time 
to dwell for a few hours upon the fates of those ancient kings, 
who, forsooth! because they have been so long dead, are consi- 
dered as undeserving of notice by those who seem to measure 
the events of the past by their own present insignificance, who, 
conscious that they themselves will be forgotten for ever as 
soon as the grave has closed over them, look begrudgingly upon 
almost every name that Time has not wholly obliterated. 



130 
CHAPTER XVI. 

OFFA, SURNAMED THE TERRIBLE. 

" Come, come you spirits 
That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here ; 
And fill me from the crown to the toe, top-full 
Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood, 
Stop up the access and passage to remorse, 
That no compunctious visitings of nature 
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between 
The effect and it ! Come to my woman's breasts, 
And take my milk for gall." — Shaksfere. 

To the kingdom of Mercia must we again turn the reader's 
attention for a few moments, and take up the thread of our his- 
tory from the death of Ethelbald, who, it will be remembered, 
fell, while endeavouring to put down the rebellion which was 
headed by Bernred. Of the latter we know nothing, excepting 
that he reigned for a few months, when he was either banished 
by the nobles, or driven from the throne by Offa, sumamed 
The Terrible, who descended from a brother of the king-slaying 
Penda. Though we have no clear proofs of the means by which 
Offa got possession of the crown of Mercia, there are many dark 
allusions scattered over the works of the monkish historians who 
were living about this period, which scarcely leave a doubt that 
he obtained the title of The Terrible through the violent mea- 
sures he had recourse to in attaining it. Bede says, he won the 
kingdom of Mercia " with a bloody sword." One of the most 
romantic incidents which occur in the records of this period, is 
that which first introduced the future queen, Drida, into Offa's 
presence. She was a bold, beautiful, ambitious, and cruel 
woman, and appears to have been related to Charlemagne. She 
committed some crime, for which she was doomed to undergo 
the ordeal of iron or fire; but although her deeds were so clearly 
proved, yet, as she was allied to Charlemagne, she was allowed 
the more merciful ordeal of water, and launched alone upon the 
pathless ocean, in a small boat, without either oar, rudder, or 
sail. She was supplied with food for a few days, and left to the 
winds and waves, by which she was driven upon the British 



OFF A, SURNAMED THE TERRIBLE. 131 

coast, somewhere on the territory over which Offa reigned. The 
storm-tossed beauty was conducted to the presence of the Mercian 
monarch, and having had ample time, while thrown from wave 
to wave, companionless upon the ocean, to make up a false tale, 
she at once gave utterance to a story which won both the pity 
and the love of Offa at the same time. He resigned her to the 
care of his mother for a few days, frequently visited her, and 
speedily married her t 

" He loved her for the dangers she had passea. 
And she loved him that he did pity thena." 

Such is the account given in his life, written by a monk of 
St. Albans, the abbey of which was founded by Offa. Could 
we prove that Homer was familiar to the monkish historian, we 
should be justified in imagining that he had transformed Ulysses 
into Drida, and changed Calypso to Offa ; but whether or not, 
the wild legend has a doubtful look, though it has been quoted 
by grave authors, and is admitted into several histories. 

Offa was not a king who sat asleep with the sceptre in his 
hand; there was the wakeful and ambitious queen Drida now by 
his side; and, startling as it may seem, the dark events which 
stained their reign, and the deeds of Offa's daughter, Edburga, 
would in the hands of a Shakspere furnish the materials for 
another tragedy, that might stand side by side with Macbeth. 
Her cold cruel pride, and chilling haughtiness, are said to have 
broken the heart of Offa's mother, and, in a few months, to 
have hurried her into the grave. The blinded king saw only 
her superb beauty, for she appears to have been a female fiend, 
that outwardly wore an angel's form. Brave as a lion, and pos- 
sessing talents that would have broken through the gloom of the 
most benighted period, the Mercian king marched onward from 
conquest to conquest, now achieving deeds that win our ad- 
miration, then sinking down to commit such crimes as must have 
made his subjects shudder. On each side of him Drida and his 
daughter are ever rising up, like two spirits that attract our 
attention, as they come out in the sunshine to smile, or rush 
shrieking from amid the darkness, into which they had plunged, 
to accomplish some new and horrible deed; they seem to come 
and go with a terrible distinctness, that makes us tremble as 
they either approach or vanish, as if Mercy fled before them, 
and we heard, in the place from which she had hurried affrighted, 

k2 



132 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

dying moans, and Love wailing upon the very lips on which 
lie, expiring, kissed the poison of death. All is dim as a dream, 
or startling as some appalling reality which we look upon with a 
doubtful consciousness. So perplexing and unnatural appear 
the events of this period, that the generality of historians seem 
to have paused, looked round for a moment, in doubt and wonder, 
then hastened off to visit less forbidding scenes: as if they feared 
to grapple with the shadows and the realities, that here seem to 
be ever exchanging places, throwing aside what is only doubtful 
as feeble, and dreading to look among events which seem cruel 
and unnatural for their horrible truth, as if years, because they 
have rolled away, were empty of events, and days dawmed not 
upon hopes and fears as in the present day. Wild-roses blew, and 
nightingales sang, as they do now, and the smell and sound were 
as sweet to those who went out to look and listen, in the noon- 
day, or in the twilight, and returning, were stabbed by the way, 
or laid their heads upon their pillows unconscious of the poison 
that would, before the dawning, with a noiseless power, unlock 
and throw open the silent gates of death. The murdered kings 
who were hurried into their graves by these merciless women, 
once enjoyed the tender green of Spring, and the sober gold of 
the Autumnal foliage, as we still do. What a period are we now 
picturing! A king is murdered and consigned to his grave; his 
successor builds a monastery, or makes a pilgrimage to Rome, 
and believes that he has purchased forgiveness. A queen rushes 
out of the chamber, and leaves behind her the yet w r arm body of 
the husband she has poisoned, crosses the sea, and becomes an 
abbess. A young king comes wooing, in all the hey-day of life, 
is allured from the banquet by the mother of the fair princess 
for whose hand he is suing, taken into the next apartment, and 
put to death. And these are the solemn truths of English his- 
tory — the dark deeds that were done by those who sat on the 
very throne which Alfred the Great himself occupied. 'The 
events which we record in this chapter, were written down by 
Alfred nearly a thousand years ago; he heard them from the 
lips of those whose fathers had lived and moved through all 
these stirring scenes. 

We have before shown in what a defenceless state Northum- 
bria w r as left. Offa, doubtless well acquainted with the civil 
dissensions by which it was rent asunder, attacked it, as his uncle 
Penda had done beforetime; what advantages he gained, are 



OFFA, SURNAMED THE TERRIBLE. 133 

not recorded. He next marched into Kent, fought a hardly 
contested battle at Otunford or Otford, conquered, and annexed 
that kingdom to Mercia. At the battle of Bensington, he de- 
feated Cynewulf, king of Wessex, and either took possession of 
his dominions, or compelled him to become his ally; that OfFa 
did not dethrone him is evident from an incident which we shall 
shortly have to narrate. The ancient Britons were not yet at rest, 
for whenever a favourable opportunity occurred, they sallied forth 
from the corners into which they were driven, slew and plun- 
dered the Saxons, and hastened back again into their mountain- 
fortresses as soon as they saw a stronger force approaching. 
They had several times invaded Mercia, and, emboldened by their 
success, at length drove the Saxons who dwelt beside the 
Severn, further into the heart of the kingdom. Offa at last 
armed, and led on, a powerful force against them. The Welsh 
fled into their hidden fastnesses, where they stood until his back 
was turned upon them, when they again ventured forth. The 
Mercian king once more approached, when the mountaineers, as 
usual, fled, and all the open country, from the Severn to the river 
"Wye, was cleared of them; this time Offa determined to imprison 
this daring remnant of the old Cymry within their own limited 
territories. To accomplish this, he commanded a vast trench to 
be dug, and a huge rampart to be thrown up, as the Roman 
generals had done centuries before; and this gigantic work he 
extended for nearly a hundred miles, carrying it over marsh, and 
morass, and mountain, from the river Dee to the entrance of the 
Wye, strengthening it also with fortresses, which he manned 
with chosen and hardy soldiers. But the Welsh were not long 
before they filled up a large portion of the ditch, made a wide 
gap through the ramparts, and fell upon Offa's warriors while 
they were holding their Christmas feast, and more than one 
Saxon fortress was left standing all throughout that dark winter 
night without a sentinel. OfFa again arose, and revenged the 
deaths of his followers; the king of North Wales, and many of 
the old British nobles, fell at the battle of Rhuddlan, and those 
who were taken prisoners were doomed to the severest slavery. 
Mercia was not disturbed again by the Welsh during the reign, 
of OfFa the Terrible. The remains of the immense work, which 
ages after retained the name of Claudh OfFa, or OfFa's Dyke, are 
still visible, and for centuries were the acknowledged barrier 
that divided England from Wales; many an unrecorded combat 



134 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

was fought on those ancient boundaries, and the remains of 
many a hero, whose name will never now be known, lie buried 
deep down within those nlled-up trenches. 

Perhaps Offa's marriage with Drida was the first cause of his 
opening a correspondence with the renowned Charlemagne; but 
whatever it might be, the letters that passed between them re- 
veal the earliest traces of a protected trade with the continent. 
The Frankish king offered to permit all pilgrims to pass securely 
through his dominions; and such as came not on religious mis- 
sions, but were engaged in commerce, were to pass safely to and 
fro, after paying the requisite duties. To Offa, Charlemagne 
sent as proofs of his kindness and friendship, a rich belt, an 
Hungarian sword, and two cloaks of silk. Trifling as these 
matters may at first appear, they show what silent strides 
civilization was already making; duties paid on commerce for 
protection are different things to the dogs and horses which, cen- 
turies before, the Britons were wont to present to the Roman 
emperors whenever they required their aid. 

Egbert, who was destined to become the grandfather of Alfred 
the Great, resided for a time at Offa's court; but when Brihtric 
ascended the throne of Wessex, and demanded the hand of Ed- 
burga, Egbert hastened to France, where he became a great 
favourite with Charlemagne; and there he not only improved 
himself in learning and military tactics, but by departing from 
Britain, saved his life, for Brihtric was already jealous of the 
fame he had won, while residing with Offa, and sought to destroy 
him, Had the gifted young prince offended Edburga by re- 
fusing her hand, and was this jealousy aroused by queen Drida 
and her daughter? There is one of those mysterious blanks here 
which we are at a loss to fill up rightly, for it is not clear that 
Egbert fled to Offa for protection, but on the contrary he appears 
to have been a guest of the Mercian king's, for some time before 
Brihtric sought the hand of Edburga. According to William 
of Malmesbury, Egbert's claim to the throne of Wessex was su- 
perior to Brihtric's; but we must not pass over the event by 
which the throne of Wessex became vacant. Cynewulf we have 
already seen measuring arms with Offa at the battle of Bensing- 
ton, where he was defeated. He became jealous of Cyneheard, 
who was a brother of Sigebyrht, a king who had been driven 
from the throne of Wessex, and he either sought to slay him, or 
banish him from the kingdom. Cyneheard made his escape, but 



OFFA, SURNAMED THE TERRIBLE. 135 

no further than into a neighbouring wood, near Merton in Surrey, 
where he lay concealed, having, however, a number of spies 
about him, who were ever on the look out after the king, for 
Cyneheard had resolved to strike the first blow; nor was it long 
before an opportunity occurred that favoured his purpose. 

A fair lady lived at Merton, whom Cynewulf frequently 
visited, often coming with only a few attendants; his enemy was 
on the look out, and soon surrounded the house after he had 
seen the king enter. Cynewulf threw open the door, rushed out, 
and wounded Cyneheard; a dozen swords were at once uplifted 
against him ; the king of Wessex fought alone against them all; 
his followers were in another part of the house; there was not 
one by to aid him, and he was slain. Assistance came too late; 
the tumult had aroused those within, and, snatching up their 
weapons, they hastened out to defend their master; they beheld 
him fallen and bleeding beside the threshold. Cyneheard parleyed 
with them for a few moments, offered them broad lands, and rich 
rewards, if they would serve him; they threw back his offer with 
disdain, and foot to foot, and hand to hand, did they fight until 
only one remained alive; the dead followers, and the dead king, 
lay side by side. The tidings of Cynewulf's death were soon 
blown abroad, and others speedily rode up to revenge the murder 
of their sovereign. To these Cyneheard made the same offers, 
and received the same reply, their only answer being the naked 
weapons they presented; they had come to revenge the death of 
their king, to demand life for life, and with but few words they 
fell upon Cyneheard and his followers, and slew them all, ex- 
cepting one, who was severely wounded. Thus Brihtric ascended 
the throne of Wessex, and married the daughter of Offa, — and 
dark was the bridal chamber into which he entered. 

Turn we to another scene. A young lady was leaning upon 
the ledge of the palace-window, watching a long train of knights 
entering the court-yard, and admiring the beauty of one who ap- 
peared to be their chief, when she called upon her mother to 
come forward and witness the scene. That lady was the youngest 
daughter of Offa, the woman she called her mother, queen Drida, 
the youth she had admired, Ethelbert, who had just succeeded to 
the throne of East Anglia, and had now come with costly pre- 
sents, to seek her hand, and form an alliance with the powerful 
house of Mercia. Drida had those beyond the sea whom she 
wished to serve, with whom she had in vain endeavoured to 



136 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

unite her daughter in marriage; there was but one left single 
now, the youngest, Alfleda, and the youthful king of East Anglia 
had come to carry her off also. She had seen her husband wel- 
come him, and the warm reception Ethelbert had received, was 
gall and wormwood to her. The evil spirit rose strong within 
her, and she resolved he should never again quit her roof until 
he was carried to his grave. 

She called Offa aside. She well knew the power of her beauty: 
the weak point of her husband — ambition. She pointed out the 
number of followers who, encamped without the palace walls, 
had accompanied Ethelbert, — assured him that marriage was not 
the errand he had come upon; — that his design extended to the 
crown of Mercia. Offa doubted her assertions. Cunning as she 
was cruel, she suddenly turned round the point of her argu- 
ment, then proceeded to show him that if even the young king 
did marry their daughter, he would, from the moment of his 
union, consider himself as heir to the throne of Mercia, and 
hourly look for Offa's death ; nay, seek to hasten it if an oppor- 
tunity offered. She showed him how Ethelbert had made him- 
self acquainted with the roads which led through Mercia — how 
he must have observed every salient point of the kingdom as he 
passed along; and, perceiving that the king looked perplexed, 
she added — " Either he will shortly be the cause of your death, 
or you must now be the cause of his." — The poor blinded hus- 
band admitted the truth of her argument, confessed that he was 
exposed to peril; yet, according to one of the old chroniclers, 
turned away, and firmly refused to partake in such a " detestable 
crime as she suggested; which," added he, " would bring eternal 
disgrace upon me and my successors." 

The two kings sat down to the feast; the hall of the palace 
resounded with mirth. Drida came in every now and then, and 
when called upon to account for her absence, said she had been 
looking after the apartment which she was fitting up for the re- 
ception of her royal guest: for Ethelbert had spent the previous 
night in his camp, as the day was drawing to a decline long 
before he reached the royal residence. In the room which the 
queen had set apart for the East Anglian king, she had caused a 
splendid throne to be erected, which was overhung with curious 
drapery, and surmounted by a rich canopy. In the adjoining 
apartment a beautiful couch was fitted up, on which he was to 
sleep. She came in again with the same smiling look, and armed 



OFFA, SURNAMED THE TERRIBLE. 137 

with that beauty which Time had only rendered more imposing 
and majestic. She sat down to the feast, and whiled away the 
hour with pleasant and playful conversation. All without looked 
calm, and cheerful, and captivating, while within, there rolled 
dark and deep-moving murder, and savage vengeance; and all 
the awful turmoil, which ever beats about the restless brain of 
disappointed ambition. The Saxon gleemen sung, and tumbled; 
the wine -cup circulated — rich pigment, sweetened with honey, 
and flavoured with spices, was handed round in costly vessels; 
mead mellowed with the juice of mulberries, and strong wines, 
made odoriferous with the flowers and sweet-herbs which had 
been used in the preparation, passed from hand to hand; and 
all went "merry as a marriage bell," when the antiquated syren 
turned sweetly round, and assumed one of those studied looks 
which had saved her from the fiery ordeal — which, when tossed 
like a wave upon the ocean, had won its way through Offa's 
heart to his throne; she exclaimed, (and probably laid her hand 
upon the shoulder of her unsuspecting victim, as she spoke;) 
" Come, my son, Alfleda anxiously awaits you in the chamber I 
have prepared; she wishes to hear the words of love which her 
intended husband has to say." It is not improbable that she led 
him in playfully by the hand — not one of his attendants followed. 
When he entered the room, she bade him sit down upon the 
throne, which stood in readiness to receive him; and, looking 
round with feigned wonder, marvelled why her daughter had not 
already arrived. With the merry mead playing about his 
brain, we can almost picture Ethelbert uttering some jest as he 
threw himself laughing into the gorgeous seat. We can see the 
last smile linger about Drida's eye, the sparkling fire of ven- 
geance heaving up, as the demon-like glare flashed forth, the 
instant she had released her hand — for the moment Ethelbert 
threw himself upon the throne, it sunk beneath him, into the pit, 
or well over which it had been placed. There was help at hand, 
men behind the arras, who listened silently for the fall. They 
rushed forth, Drida aided them. Beds, pillows, and hangings, 
were thrown upon the shrieking king, to drown his cries; and 
when all was silent, the trap-door was again closed. There 
is scarcely a doubt that Offa was privy to the deed. The 
fact of his taking possession of East Anglia immediately after 
the murder of Ethelbert, is a strong proof of his guilt; though 
some have attempted to show that he but seized upon it in self- 



138 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

defence, when the East Angiians swore to revenge the death of 
their sovereign. 

Alfleda, the fair betrothed, fled from the murderous court, to 
the monastery of Croyland; and in the midst of those wild 
marshes, where the bittern boomed, and the tufted plover went 
ever wailing through the air, she assumed the habit of a nun, 
and dedicated the remainder of her days, which were few, to the 
service of God. 

In the " Life of Offa," which we have before alluded to, it is 
stated that the Mercian monarch banished the royal murderess 
to one of the most solitary fortresses in his dominions, — that 
she carried with her an immense treasure, which she had reaped 
from many a crime, and wrung from many a one who had 
groaned beneath her oppression: that, lonely and neglected, she 
was left to gloat over the gold for which she had perilled her 
soul. But vengeance was not long before it overtook her. The 
lonely fortress to which she was banished was attacked by rob- 
bers, her treasures taken from her, and she herself cruelly tor- 
tured, then thrown into a well, where she was left to expire, un- 
wept, and unpitied. A strange resemblance does her end bear 
to that of the youthful king, whom she caused to be so ruthlessly 
butchered. 

Edburga inherited all her mother's vices; she was envious, 
ambitious, and cruel Those who became favourites with her 
husband, Brihtric, she hated, allowing no one to share his con- 
fidence or his counsel without drawing down her vengeance; 
and when she could not succeed in obtaining their disgrace or 
banishment, she caused them to be secretly poisoned, for there 
were ever emissaries at her elbow, ready to do their wicked 
work. Like her mother Drida, she found a pleasure in the 
execution of dark and dreadful deeds. There was a youth who 
stood high in the estimation of the king, whom Edburga had long 
endeavoured, but in vain, to overthrow. Brihtric turned a deaf 
ear to all her complaints, and seldom trusted his envied favourite 
out of his sight. But she had sent too many of her victims to 
the grave, and was acquainted with too many ready roads, which 
led direct to death, to abandon her prey; so, following her old 
sure and speedy path, she poured poison into his wine-cup. That 
night the king drank out of the same vessel as his favourite, and 
died. She sent one soul more to the dark dominions than she 
had intended; and, dreading the vengeance of her nobles, she 



OFF A, SURNAMED THE TERRIBLE. 139 

packed up all the treasures she could find in the palace, and 
hastened off to France. The West Saxons passed a decree that 
no king's consort should in future share her husband's throne, 
but that the title of queen should be abolished. 

The murderess presented herself before Charlemagne, with 
all her treasures, and, doubtless, as her mother Drida had before- 
time done, when tossed by the angry ocean upon the British 
coast, she feigned some story to account for her coming, for 
Charlemagne asked her whether she would choose himself or his 
son, who stood beside him, for her husband. She boldly re- 
plied — " Your son, because he is the youngest." The monarch 
answered : " that if she had chosen him, it was his intention to 
have given her to his son; but now," added he, " you shall have 
neither." A strong proof that she had forged some tale about 
the death of Brihtric, for such a proposition would never have 
been made to her had Charlemagne known that she had just 
hurried, with breathless haste, from the dead body of her mur- 
dered husband. She went into a monastery, became abbess, 
and was quickly driven out for the immoral and infamous life 
she there led. " Last scene of all" — the haughty daughter of 
Offa became a common beggar in the streets of Pavia, where 
she was led about by a little girl. King Alfred mentions these 
facts; he heard them from those who knew her well. Offa was 
then in his grave. His son reigned but a few months — Ed- 
burga died a beggar in the streets — Alfleda soon after in the 
monastery of Croyland. The whole race was swept away; 
not one was left alive in whose veins there ran the blood of 
Offa the Terrible. Neither sable tragedy nor dark romance were 
ever woven from wilder materials than the historical truths which 
form this gloomy chapter. 



140 

CHAPTER XVII. 

EGBERT, KING OF ALL THE SAXONC. 

" my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows ! 
When that my care could not withhold thy riots, 
What wilt thou do, when riot is thy care ? 
O, thou wilt be a wilderness again, 
Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants !" — Shakspere. 

Egbert was no sooner apprised of the death of Brihtric, than 
he hastened out of France, to take possession of the throne of 
Wessex, and never had a Saxon sovereign that had hitherto 
swayed the perilous sceptre come armed with the experience of 
the new king. He had studied in the stern school of Charle- 
magne, had narrowly scanned the policy pursued by that great 
monarch, both in the council and in the camp, and was well pre- 
pared to collect and reduce to order the stormy elements which 
had so long been let loose over Britain; for, in addition to the 
civil discords which shook the land, the Danes had already invaded 
our island. Few kings had ever received a warmer welcome 
from their subjects than that which awaited Egbert on his acces- 
sion, for he was the last descendant of the race of Cerdric. Kent, 
Essex, and East Anglia, had already acknowledged the power of 
Mercia; Northumbria had long been rent asunder by internal 
dissensions; and Sussex was by this time united to "Wessex. 
Having thus doubled its strength and enlarged its territories, the 
kingdom over which Egbert reigned was, with the exception of 
Mercia, the only independent state that stood unbroken amid the 
ruins of the Octarchy. 

Kenwulf sat firmly upon the throne, whose foundation Offa 
had so well consolidated. Egbert watched him with an eagle 
eye, but though ever on the alert, the Mercian king was too 
wary to become an aggressor; and the Wessex sovereign knew 
too well the strength of his rival, to be the first to commence an 
attack. Both kingdoms seemed overhung with the same threaten- 
ing sky, but no one could tell on which it would first break, 
though all could foresee that, in spite of its remaining so long 
stationary, the storm must at last burst forth. As the petty 



EGBERT, KING OF ALL THE SAXONS. 141 

states around them crumbled to pieces, were gathered up and 
built in upon other foundations, so did each silently seek to pos- 
sess himself of the ruins and overtop the other, making an out- 
ward parade of their strength; yet each tacitly acknowledging, 
by their forbearance, how much they envied, yet respected, their 
neighbours' power. Like two expert wrestlers, each retained his 
hold, without venturing to overthrow his adversary. This state 
of things could not last long; yet while Kenwulf lived, he kept 
the balance so equally poised, that, with all his ambition, Egbert 
ventured not to touch the scale. The king of Mercia died, and, 
from that moment, Wessex slowly gained the ascendancy. 
Hitherto Egbert had contented himself by carrying his arms into 
Cornwall and Devonshire, and waging war with the Britons. 
After Kenwulf's death, he aimed at the sole sovereignty of Bri- 
tain, and circumstances soon favoured his long-meditated con- 
quest. Had Egbert died first, Kenwulf would have aspired to 
the same power. 

The Mercian king left his son Kinelm, who was only seven 
years of age, and heir to the throne, to the charge of his sisters. 
Windreda, the eldest, was not long before she caused her brother 
to be put to death. His tutor, Askebert, was the instrument 
chosen by this unnatural sister to accomplish the deed. It is 
said that she promised to share with him the sovereignty. Under 
the pretence of hunting, the unsuspicious prince was led into a 
neighbouring wood, and there murdered. The spot in which 
the body was interred was, after some time, discovered by a 
herdsman; who went in search of one of his cows which had gone 
astray; a miracle in the old monkish legends is appended to the 
discovery. The sceptre of Mercia was wrested from the hands 
of Windreda by her uncle, Ceolwulf, who, however, did not re- 
tain it long before he was driven from the throne by_Beornwulf, 
which revolution soon shook the kingdom of Mercia to its very 
centre. Egbert still stood aloof; the time for action had not yet 
arrived. He foresaw that the last usurper would not long remain 
inactive; nor was he wrong. Beornwulf rushed headlong into a 
war with Wessex. The battle took place at Wilton, which, in 
ancient times, was called Elian; and although the Mercians mus- 
tered together the largest force upon the field, Egbert, after a 
sharp contest, won the victory. 

Although the king of Wessex did not carry his victorious 
arms at once into Mercia, he lost no time in annexing Kent to 



142 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

his dominions, thus weakening at once his rival's power. To 
accomplish this, he despatched his son Ethelwulf, the father 
of our Alfred the Great, with a strong force into Kent, who 
drove the vassal king across the Thames. Egbert next promised 
to support the East Anglians, if they would rise and declare 
themselves independent of the Mercian king. He kept his word. 
Beornwulf fell in the first battle. Ludecan succeeded him, and 
also perished in the next contest. Wiglaf then took the com- 
mand of the Mercian forces, but before he had time to 
strengthen his army, and make up for their previous defeats, 
Egbert was upon him, and the power of Wessex was at last 
triumphant. Wiglaf fled into the monastery of Croyland, and 
appeal's to have been so closely pursued, that he was compelled 
to seek shelter in the very cell which the daughter of Offa 
occupied — the sanctity of which the invaders respected: here 
he remained four months. What a shock must the feelings of 
the fair nun have undergone when the last defender of Mercia 
rushed into her little apartment to save his life — from the very 
night when she fled from her father's palace, pale and woe- 
begone, and horror-struck at the murder of her intended 
husband — from that very night had the fortune of her family 
begun to decline, and now she was all that remained of the 
once powerful house of Offa. What changes had that Saxon 
princess witnessed, what shifting scenes could she recal as she 
sat in the solitude of her cell, contemplating the past as it rose 
before her! 

By the intercession of Siward, Wiglaf was permitted to 
occupy the throne of Mercia, on condition that he paid tribute 
to Egbert — the abbot of Croyland attested the payment. Prior 
to this period, the Northumbrians grew w r eary of being without 
a king, and Eanred now sat upon the throne. During the reign 
of Kenwulf he had been bold enough to invade Mercia. As 
Egbert had by this time subdued the whole Octarchy, with the 
exception of Northumbria, he determined to carry his victorious 
army into Deiri and Bernicia. Eanred well knew that it was 
useless to measure arms with a monarch who had already 
compelled five Saxon kingdoms to acknowledge his power, so 
he came forth submissively, and, like the rest, became a tributary 
vassal to the king of Wessex. Egbert next invaded Wales, and 
penetrated into the very heart of Snowdon: victory still attended 
him. From the Tweed to the Land's End of Cornwall, no one 



EGBERT, KING OF ALL THE SAXONS. 143 

now arose to dispute his sovereign sway. No Saxon king had 
ever before ruled over such a vast extent of territory, for he 
was at last sole king of England, although he never assumed 
that proud title; neither did any Saxon king after him ever 
rule over such a length and breadth of land. 

We have before stated that, during the reign of Offa, the 
Danes had landed in England; they first arrived with three 
ships, approached one of the royal cities, when the sheriff of 
the place, thinking they were foreign merchants, rode up with 
a few attendants to inquire their business. Their answers 
being unsatisfactory, he ordered them to be driven away, when 
they fell upon him, and he, with all who accompanied him, were 
slain. The Danes then plundered the town; but before they 
escaped to their ships, Offa's soldiers attacked them. After 
this defeat, they returned again, landed in Northumbria, 
ravaged the country, sacked the abbey of Lindisfarne, slew 
several of the monks, then retreated with, an immense spoil to 
their ships. At several other parts of the island they had also 
landed, before Egbert occupied the throne of Wessex. In the 
year 832 they came again; Egbert had made the whole kingdom 
of the Octarchy bow before the power of Wessex, and doubtless 
had sat down, expecting to doze away the remainder of his days 
peaceably upon his throne, when tidings came that a number of 
these savage pagans had landed in the Isle of Sheppey, slaugh- 
tered several of the inhabitants, and, laden with plunder, had 
again escaped to sea without a single vessel pursuing them. 

The next year, the Danes came with thirty-five ships, and 
were met by Egbert at Charmouth, in Dorsetshire, and if the 
English were not defeated in this engagement, they lost a consi- 
derable number of men, amongst whom w^ere two bishops and 
two ealdermen; while the Danes sustained but little loss, and 
escaped, as before, with their ships. So serious had the ravages 
of the sea-kings now become, that a council was held in London, 
to devise the best means to prevent their depredations. At this 
council Egbert presided, and, according to the charter which 
Wiglaf granted to the abbey of Croyland, wherein direct allu- 
sion is made to a promise given at the time, there were present, 
" Egbert, and Athelwulf his son, and all the bishops and great 
ealdermen of England, consulting together as to the best means 
of repelling the constant incursions of the Danes on the English 
coast." These northern invaders soon found ready allies amongst 



144 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

the remnant of the ancient Cymry, who still inhabited a corner 
of Cornwall and the adjacent neighbourhood, and were as ready 
as in the days of king Arthur, to league themselves with any- 
enemy who was bold enough to attack the Saxons. But the 
martial spirit of the ancient Britons had all but died out; the 
few embers that remained, when stirred, retained all their former 
glow, then faded again in their old ashy grey, and sank into a lesser 
compass at every touch; for the smouldering waste had slowly 
gone on, year after year, and no new fuel having been added, 
the hidden sparks huddled hopelessly together — Liberty had 
neglected to come, as the bards had promised she would do: the 
altar and the spark were still there, but the long-looked for sacri- 
fice never came, which was to light the whole island with its 
blaze. Still, the old Cymry were not yet dead; they hailed the 
Danes as their deliverers, and thinly as they were sprinkled over 
the surrounding country, they gladly mustered what force they 
could, and joined the stormy sea-kings at Hengston Hill, in Corn- 
wall. Egbert met them with a well-appointed army, and de- 
feated their united forces with terrible slaughter. 

The following year, Egbert died, after a reign of thirty -seven 
years, and was succeeded by his son, Ethel wulf, the father of 
Alfred the Great. The king of all the Saxons sank into his 
grave, with the fond hope that the whole Octarchy had now be- 
come united like one family, all acknowledging one sway; that 
the civil dissensions by which each separate state had so long 
been torn asunder had for ever ceased; and as the Danish in- 
vaders had not again appeared since their dreadful defeat at 
Hengston Hill, he closed his dying eyes, and left his country 
at peace. But scarcely was he within his grave, before the 
northern hordes again poured into England, spreading greater 
consternation than the Saxons had ever done amongst the Britons. 
The hour of retribution, which the Cymry had so long looked 
for, was fast approaching, but few of their ancient race lived to 
witness its fulfilment; for time, and conquest, and slavery, and 
death, had left but few of those early inhabitants behind, whose 
forefathers first landed upon our island, and called it the Country 
of Sea Cliffs. But we have reached another of those ancient 
landmarks, which stand wide apart along the shores of History, 
the grey monuments which overlook that still sea of death, where 
nameless millions have for ages been buried. From these we 
must now turn away to gaze upon another race, more savage 



THE SEA-KINGS. 145 

and uncivilized than the preceding invaders ever were, when, 
nearly four centuries before, they first rowed their long chiules 
over the same stormy seas, and marvelled to find an island in 
the ocean, which contained walled cities and stately temples, and 
tall columns, that might have vied with classic Rome. To the 
Danes must we now turn — those children of the creeks, who, 
under the guidance of their sea-kings, followed the road of the 
swans, as they called the ocean, and hewed out a home with 
their swords, wherever the winds or the waves wafted or drifted 
them, 



146 



Invasion of fte Itaes. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE ANCIENT SEA-KINGS. 

" The Northmen sailed in their nailed ships, 
On the roaring sea over deep water — 
They left behind them raw to devour 
The sallow kite, the swarthy raven with horny nib, 
And the house vulture, with the eagle swift, 
And that grey beast, the wolf of the wold, 
To consume the prey." 

Axglo-Saxon War Song. — Ingram's Translation. 

The Danes, Norwegians, or Norsemen, for it matters not by 
which title we distinguish them, descended from the same 
primitive race as the Anglo-Saxons — the old Teutonic or 
Gothic tribes; But to enter fully into the mixed population, 
all of whom sprung from this ancient stock, and at different 
periods invaded England, we should have to go deeply into the 
early history of Norway, Sweden, and Denmark, Their religion 
was the same as that which we have described at the com- 
mencement of the Saxon invasion. They worshipped Odin, 
and died in the hope of enjoying the brutal delights which their 
imaginations pictured as never-ending in the halls of Valhalla. 
From the rocky coast of Norway, and the very islands where 
Hengist, and Cerdric, and Ella, first led their followers, the 
stormy sea-kings came: across the rough Baltic they rode; they 
swarmed like locusts along the neighbouring shores, and were 
neither intimidated by the tempest, nor disheartened by the 
defeats which they frequently sustained. The kingdoms from 
whence they came were divided into petty sovereignties, where 
one chief made war upon the other — where the conqueror of 
yesterday was likely enough to be driven on the morrow to the 
sea-coast, and, finally, out into the ocean, when, with his ships, 
he became a sea-king, and over the billows rode merrily to dis- 



THE ANCIENT SEA-KINGS. 147 

cova* some other country. If he returned enriched with 
plunder, he was respected; if he came back empty-handed, he 
was despised. His vessels laden with spoil soon procured him 
plenty of followers, and then his former conqueror fell a victim; 
for over each province, or state, that could furnish forth a dozen 
ships, each of which contained about sixty or seventy armed 
men, there a sea-king was to be found. Norway alone, at one 
period, was divided into about thirty of these sovereignties. 

Others there were who possessed not a rood of territory, 
whose only property was their ships, the crews their subjects, 
the sword their sceptre; who had no alternative but to plunder 
or perish, to slay or starve, or stay at home and prey upon their 
brethren, who themselves were ever darting out from the herb- 
less coast to seize whatever they saw passing upon the sea. 
If the family retained any landed possession, one son stayed at 
home to inherit it, the rest sallied out with their ships to seek 
their fortune across the deep; for a few vessels, well equipped 
and ably manned, were considered a rich inheritance amongst 
the Danes. At twelve years of age, they were initiated into this 
piratical profession, and taught to believe that to plunder and to 
slay were the only honourable passports to wealth and glory — ■ 
the only employments that were considered noble. The lessons 
their fathers taught them, all tended to the same end, for they 
left their children no wealth. " Go, my sons," said they, " and 
reap riches and renown, with your ships and your swords." 
They learned to despise inherited property; they valued that 
most which had been won by the greatest danger, and prized 
highest the plunder which they had become possessed of by 
venturing into the most perilous paths. 

In bays and creeks, and in the shadows of jutting headlands, 
they concealed themselves, where they were ever ready, at a 
moment's notice, to rush upon the passing prey. When out at 
sea, they cared not where they were driven to, so long as it was 
not to their own coast. They called the storm their servant, and 
wherever it carried them, they said " that was the spot where 
they desired to go — the tempest that hurled them along with 
its mighty breath but came, that the rowers might rest their 
weary arms." Those who were drowned, they believed, went 
safely to Odin; those who survived, but laughed at the storm 
they had escaped. Danger depressed them not, and death 
they but considered as a common and necessary companion, who 

l2 



148 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

went on his appointed mission to conduct them to the halls of 
Odin, and returned again unheeded, and dwelt amongst them 
from day to day; coming and going like a common messenger 
that scarcely merited a passing remark. They looked upon the 
Saxon Christians as traitors to their gods; and as they had been 
crushed under the iron hand of Charlemagne, and been sub- 
jected to revolting cruelties to compel them to renounce their 
ancient creed, they believed that they rendered true service 
to Odin by slaughtering the priests, and destroying the 
churches of Christ. Such of the unconverted Saxons as still 
inhabited the neighbourhood of Jutland, readily formed a league 
with the more distant sea-kings, and, thus banded together, 
they made head against their common enemies, though their 
near brethren; for they now looked upon them as renegades, 
and neither the resemblance which they bore to each other in 
feature or language, nor the remembrance that all were once of 
the same religion, checked for a moment their hostile spirit. In 
former times, they worked themselves up into fits of madness, 
bit their shields, and imitated the howling of wolves, and the 
barking of dogs; and, under this excitement, performed feats of 
unnatural strength, such as maniacs alone are capable of achieving. 
When in this state, woe to the warriors they rushed upon ! Such 
savage deeds were common in early times amongst the followers 
of Odin. It is said that, in the darker centuries, they ate the flesh 
of horses raw, dragged the infant from the breast of its mother, 
and tossed it from one to another upon the points of their lances. 
They decorated the prows of their ships with the figures of 
animals: the heads of shaggy lions, and savage bulls, and hideous 
dragons, were placed at the front of their vessels, and threw their 
grim shadows upon the waves. Along the sides of their ships 
they hung their shields, which, placed together, threw back the 
billows, and thus protected them from the surges of the sea, as 
they did from the blows dealt in battle. On their masts were 
placed the figures of birds, whose outstretched wings veered 
round with every wind that blew. Some of their vessels were 
built in the form of a serpent, the prow resembling the head, the 
long stern forming the tail; these they called the great sea- 
serpents, or sea-dragons. When they unloosed their cables, and 
left their ships to career freely over the waves, they called it 
giving their great sea-horses the rein. They lashed the prows 
of their vessels together, and while thus linked, steered right 



THE ANCIENT SEA-KINGS. 149 

into their enemies' ships; over the dragons', and the bulls', and 
the lions' heads they leaped, and courageously boarded the foe. 
The huge club, studded with spikes, which dealt death wherever 
it fell, they called the "star of the morning." When they 
fought, they called their war-cry, " chaunting the mass of lances;" 
to show their contempt for the Christian creed, they stabled 
their horses in the Christian churches; and when they finished the 
repast which they had compelled the reluctant host to furnish, 
they slew him, and burnt his house.* 

When they ascended the rivers, and found a convenient and 
secure station, they drew up their vessels, as the Eomans had 
done beforetime, threw up intrenchments, and left a guard be- 
hind, while the bulk of their force sallied out to scour the country, 
burning and slaying wherever they came, seizing upon all the 
horses they could capture, to carry their plunder over-land; and 
when hotly pursued, or followed by a superior force, they broke 
up their encampment, and trusted for safety to their ships. 
After a time, they became bolder; drove away or slaughtered 
the natives, and settled down upon the land they, had taken 
from the inhabitants. Some they allowed to reside amongst 
them, on condition that they renounced their religion ; and the 
ceremony of a Christian becoming a pagan consisted of his par- 
taking of the flesh of a horse, which was sacrificed on one of 
their altars dedicated to the worship of Odin. When the sea- 
kings made a solemn vow, they swore upon a golden bracelet. 
In their social hours, all were equal; no man was then addressed 
as chief; all distinction was levelled. They sat in a circle, and 
passed the drinking-horn from hand to hand. He whom they 
obeyed in battle, whom they followed wherever he chose to steer 
his ship — when the victory was won, laid his dignity aside; for 
the stormy spirit who ruled in the tempest and heralded the way 
in the fight, (though still a sea-king if the alarm was given,) was, 
while peace lasted, and the feast continued, on a level with the 
lowest of his followers. This very unbending, during these 
festive moments, linked the chief closer to his subjects, and made 
them feel that he was one of themselves; it left ambition less to 
aspire to, and lowly valour to receive the same meed of praise. 
He was chosen king, who was best fitted to endure the greatest 

* Thierry's Norman Conquest ; Turner's Anglo-Saxons, and the early 
English Chronicles. 



150 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

hardships, and not for his high rank alone; one who had never 
slept under a house-roof, nor emptied a cup beside the domestic 
hearth, but whose habitation had, from childhood, ever been his 
ship, was the sea-king they would follow to the gates of the 
grave; such a one they chose, when the leader in whose veins 
the blood of Woden was believed to have flowed, either slept 
beneath the waves, or furnished a feast for the ravens in the de- 
serted battle-field. 

The dangers they recklessly dared, would necessarily re- 
quire a frequent change of chieftains; and as such qualities as 
we have enumerated were essential to the character of a sea- 
king, the command was left open to all who, by their bravery, 
chose to aspire to it; and nothing could be more conducive to 
the cultivation of a high spirit of valour than that levelling of 
all distinction. He who in his social moments hailed all as his 
equals, would, in the hour of trial, rally around him the stoutest 
and the truest hearts; and to prove their devotedness, they 
would follow him through fire and flood, nor leave him when he 
fell across the dark threshold of death. 

Such were the stormy sea-kings, whose ships were now dark- 
ening the ocean, who were soon to become sharers of the island 
which their adventurous brethren had wrested from the Britons, 
and who were destined to enrich the plains of England with each 
other's blood. The grim gods of the ancient Cymry seemed to 
require some savage sacrifice before they departed for ever from 
the wave-washed island on which their altars had for centuries 
blazed. 

Through a land whose skies were reddened by the fires of the 
destroyer, and Whose fields were heavy and wet with the blood 
of the slain, are we now about to journey; and after toiling 
through two weary centuries of slaughter, we shall but sit down 
upon the shore, to be startled again by the sound of the Norman 
trumpets. A king lives and dies, a battle is won and lost; and 
he who next succeeds to the throne, or wins the victory, sweeps 
over the dead who have passed away, as the autumn-blast whirls 
the withered leaves before it, until the very storm itself dies out, 
and others awaken from the caverned sleep in which they have 
grown strong enough to contend with the green array of a new 
summer. Briton, Saxon, Dane, and Norman, are like the four 
seasons which make up the long year of our history. 



151 



CHAPTER XIX. 

FIEST SETTLEMENT OF THE DANES IN NOKTHUMBRIA. 

" On Norway's coast the widowed dame 

May wash the rock with tears, 
May long look o'er the shipless seas 

Before her mate appears ; 
May sit and weep, and hope in vain, — 

Her lord lies in the clay, 
And never more will he again 

Eide o'er the salt sea-spray." 

The Old Ballad of "Habdyknute." 

Ethelwulph, although placed, in his father's life-time, upon the 
throne of Kent, had assumed the monastic habit, and a dispen- 
sation from the pope had to be obtained before he could be 
crowned king of Wessex. He appears to have been a man of a 
mild and indolent disposition, one who would have made a better 
monk than a monarch, and have been much happier in the 
dreamy quietude of the cloister, than in the stir and tumult of the 
camp. Alstan, the bishop of Sherbourne, who had shared the 
council and favour of Egbert, was the first to arouse Ethelwulph 
from his natural lethargy; for the bishop possessed a fiery and 
military spirit, better adapted to lead an army into battle, and 
to sound the war-cry, than to guide a peaceful flock along those 
pleasant pastures, where prayer and praise ought alone to be 
heard. Could the king and the priest but have exchanged 
places, the spirit of Egbert would yet have been left in the land; 
as it was, however, Alstan did his best — recruited the exchequer, 
raised a strong military force, and, though but feebly backed by 
his sovereign, he placed the country in an abler state of defence 
than it otherwise would have been, and was instrumental in 
baffling many of the daring incursions of the Danes. Every 
attack they now made became more formidable; they ventured 
up the largest rivers; pillaging all the towns they came near, and 
escaping with the spoil; — for four days, with a favourable wind, 
was time enough to sail from their own shores to the southern 
coast of Britain. At length, they began to think that the hours 
lost in voyaging to and fro might be turned to better account if 



152 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

they settled down at once upon our coast; and in the year 851, 
they took up their winter quarters in the island of Thanet. 
There could now no longer remain any doubt of their intentions; 
they were treading in the very footsteps which Hengist and 
Horsa had left behind; they had taken possession of the soil. 

The following spring, three hundred and fifty ships entered the 
Thames; London and Canterbury were plundered; the Danes 
marched onward into Mercia, defeated Bertulph, ravaged the 
country for miles, then turned round again and entered Surrey. 
Here, however, they found Ethelwulph, and his son Ethelbald, at 
the head of the West- Saxons, ready to receive them; and at Okely, 
or the Field of Oaks, as the spot was then called, the Saxons, after 
a hard fight, won the victory — such a desperate and deadly 
struggle had not taken place for many years in Britain; more than 
half of the Danish army perished in the field. Another son of 
Ethelwulph's had defeated the Danes at Sandwich, and captured 
nine of their ships. The men of Devonshire had also obtained a 
victory over them at Wenbury. Such was the consternation 
they had already spread, that every Wednesday was now set 
apart as a day of prayer, to implore the Divine aid against the 
Danes. Hitherto it had but been the muttering of the tempest, 
•with a few flashes playing about the dark edges of the thunder- 
cloud; the terrible and desolating burst had yet to come. But 
there was now slowly growing up to manhood one who was soon 
destined to stand in the front of the storm — w r ho was born to 
tread, sure-footed, through the rocking of the whirlwind: — to his 
boyish days -will we now for a few moments turn aside. 

The mother of Alfred was named Osberga; she was the daughter 
of Oslac, the king's cup-bearer — as ambassador of Ethelwulph, 
he signed the charter in which Wiglaf gave the monastery and 
lands of Croyland to the abbot Siward and his successors. Os- 
herga was a lady celebrated for her piety and intellectual 
attainments, talents which could have been of but little service 
in the education of Alfred, for before he had reached his seventh 
year, Ethelwulph, in his old age, became enamoured of a youthful 
beauty — Judith, the daughter of Charles of France, and her he* 
married, although there scarcely remains a doubt that Osberga 
was still living. It was on his return from Rome with tha 
youthful Alfred, that Ethelwulph first became smitten with the 
princess Judith. We have shown that it was customary for the 
Saxon kings to make a pilgrimage to Rome, and as Ethelwulph 



THE DANES IN NORTHUMBRIA. 153 

is said to have loved Alfred " better than his other sons," he had 
him introduced to the pope, and anointed with holy oil, although 
he was the youngest of all his children — a clear proof that he 
intended him to become his successor. The presents which 
Ethelwulph made to the pope were of the costliest description, 
and show that even at this early period the Saxon kings must 
have been in the possession of considerable wealth. They con- 
sisted of a crown of pure gold, which weighed four pounds, two 
vessels of the same material, two golden images, a sword adorned 
with pure gold, and four dishes of silver gilt, besides several 
valuable dresses. He also gave gold and silver to the priests, the 
nobles, and the people; rebuilt the school which Ina had founded, 
and which, by accident or carelessness, had been burnt down; 
and above all, procured an order from the pope, that no English- 
man, while in Rome, whether an exile or a public penitent, 
should ever again be bound with iron bonds. When he returned 
to England with his girlish wife, and the youthful Alfred, he 
found his eldest son Ethelbald at the head of a rebellion, backed 
by his old friend bishop Alstan, and the earl of Somerset. The 
cause assigned for this insurrection was, that Ethelwulph had 
raised Judith to the dignity of queen, contrary to the law of 
Wessex, for, as we have before shown, the West Saxons had 
abolished that title, on account of the crimes committed by 
Edburga. The real cause, however, appears to have been a 
jealousy of the favour shown to Alfred. But Ethelwulph was 
now in his dotage, and as in his younger days he had never 
evinced much of a warlike spirit, he by the intercession of his 
nobles came to an amicable arrangement with his son, and after 
this survived about two years, leaving Ethelbald the crown, 
which he had been so eager to assume. 

But neither crown, throne, nor sceptre, satisfied Ethelbald, 
"unless he also possessed the young widow, Judith. It is said that 
she was but twelve years old when Ethelwulph married her, and 
that she had never been more to the old king than a companion. 
This, however, silenced not the clamour of the church, and 
Ethelbald is said to have dismissed her; — a point much 
doubted, — although it is clear enough that he did not survive 
his father above three years. The monkish writers attribute 
his short career to his unnatural marriage. Judith left England, 
and for a short time resided in France, in a convent near Senlis. 
While here, she captivated Baldwin, surnamedthe Arm of Iron, 



154 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

by whom she was carried off (nothing loth) and married. Her 
father, it is said, applied to the pope to excommunicate Bald- 
win, for having taken away a widow forcibly. But whether the 
pretty widow told another tale, or Baldwin had influence enough 
to reach the ear of the pontiff, or by whatever other means the 
matter was arranged, the pope took a very lenient view of the 
affair, and Judith's third marriage was solemnized with the full 
approbation of her father. Baldwin became earl of Flanders. 
The son of Judith, on a later day, married the daughter of Alfred 
the Great, from whom Matilda, the wife of "William the Con- 
queror, afterwards descended, and from whom has come down 
our long race of English kings to the present time. The adven- 
tures of queen Judith, her marriages with Ethelwulph and his 
son, together with her elopement from the convent with Bald- 
win, the grand forester, are matters that still sleep amongst the 
early records of the olden time, and such as require the hand of 
a bold historian to bring them clearly before the public eye. 

We are now reaching the border-land of more stirring times. 
Ethelbert succeeded his brother Ethelbald; and his short reign 
was disturbed by the repeated attacks of the Danes, who again 
wintered in the isle of Thanet, overran Kent, and extended their 
ravages to the eastern parts of the country. After a reign 
of six years, Ethelbert died, and Ethelred ascended the throne 
of Wessex; — during his reign, Alfred began to take an active 
part in the government. But we must now glance backward, 
and bring before our readers a few of the Danish leaders. Chief 
amongst the sea-kings who invaded England about this period, 
was B-agnar Lodbrog, whose celebrated death-song has been 
frequently translated, and is considered one of the oldest of the 
northern poems which we possess. It was this famous sea-king 
who led on that terrible expedition which overran France, and 
destroyed Paris. After this, he returned to Norway, and built 
two of the largest ships which had ever sailed upon the northern 
seas. These he filled with armed men, and boldly steered for 
the English shore. The art of navigation was then in its in- 
fancy; the mighty vessels which Ragnar had built he had no 
control over; they were thrown upon the coast of Northumber- 
land, and wrecked. A Saxon king, named Ella, at this time 
ruled the northern kingdom, for Egbert had long before 
placed tributary sovereigns over all the states he conquered. 
The bold sea-king had no choice left to him, but either to plunder 



THE DANES IN NOftTHUMBRIA. 155 

or perish, no matter how powerful the enemy might be that came 
out against him; his ships were wrecked, and all means of escape 
cut off. With an overwhelming force compared with that of Rag- 
nar, Ella met the sea-king, and though so unequally matched, 
the pirate and his followers behaved bravely. Four times did 
Ragnar rush into the opposing ranks, making an opening 
through them wherever he appeared. He saw his warriors 
perish around him one by one, until he alone was left alive out 
of all that daring band, — every soul, excepting himself, was slain 
in the combat. Ella took the brave sea-king prisoner, and, bleed- 
ing as he was with his wounds, shut him up in a deep dungeon, 
among live and venomous adders. The charmed mantle which 
his wife Aslauga had given him, had proved of no protection; and 
it was upon his death that the Celebrated song, which we have 
before -mentioned, was composed. It has been attributed to the 
sea-king himself, though it is hardly possible that it could have 
been his own composition; for as he perished in the dungeon, it 
is not likely that his enemies would preserve a lay that set at 
defiance all their tortures, and triumphed over their former 
defeats. The following extracts will convey some idea of the 
ancient Scandinavian war-songs : — 

" We struck with our swords, when in the flower of my youth 
I went out to prepare the banquet of blood for the wolves, when 
I sent the people from that great combat in crowds to the halls 
of Odin. Our lances pierced their cuirasses — our swords clave 
their bucklers. 

"We struck with our swords, and hundreds lay around the 
horses of the island rocks — those great sea promontories of Eng- 
land. We chaunted the mass of spears with the uprising sun. 
The blood dropped from our swords; the arrows whistled in the 
air as they went in quest of the helmets. Oh! it was a pleasure 
to me, equal to what I felt when I first held my beautiful bride 
in my arms. 

'■' We struck with our swords, on that day when I laid low 
the young warrior who prided himself on his long hair, and who 
had just returned that morning from wooing the beautiful girls. 
But what is the lot of a brave man but to die amongst the first? 
A wearisome life must he lead who is never wounded in the 
great game of battle — man must resist or attack. 

" We struck with our swords! but now I feel that we follow 
the decrees of fate, and bow to the destiny of the dark spirits. 



156 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

Never did I believe that from Ella the end of my life would 
come, when I urged my vessels over the waves — but we left 
along the bays of Scotland a banquet for the beasts of prey. 
Still it delights me to know that the seats of Odin are ready for 
the guests, and that there we shall drink ale out of large hol- 
lowed skulls. Then grieve not at death in the dread mansion 
of Fiolner. 

" We struck with our swords! oh! if the sons of Aslauga but 
knew of my danger, they would draw their bright blades and 
rush to my rescue. How the venomous snakes now bite me. 
But the mother of my children is true; I gained her that they 
might have brave hearts. The staff of Vithris will soon stick 
in Ella's heart. How the anger of my sons will swell when 
they know how their father was conc^ered. In the palace of 
my heart the envenomed vipers dwell. 

" We struck with our swords! in fifty and one combats have I 
fought, and summoned my people by my warning-spear-mes- 
senger. There will be found few kings more famous than I. 
From my youth I loved to grasp the red spear. But the goddess 
invites me home from the hall of spoils; Odin has sent for me. 
The hours of mv life are gliding away, and, laughing, I will 
die." 

The tidings of the terrible death of Ragnar were' not long 
in travelling to the rocky coast of Norway; in every creek, and 
bay, and harbour, it resounded, and wherever a sea-king breathed 
around the Baltic, he swore on his bracelet of gold to revenge 
the death of the renowned chieftain; all petty expeditions were 
laid aside; Dane, Swede, and Norwegian, united like one man; 
and eight kings, and twenty jarls, or petty chieftains, all joined 
in the enterprise, at the head of which Ingwar and Hubba, the 
two sons of Ragnar, were placed; all the relations and friends of 
Bagnar, no matter how remote, swelled the force that had con- 
gregated to revenge his death. 

Although this mighty fleet was directed towards Northumbria, 
by some chance it passed the coast, and came to anchor on the 
shores of East Anglia. No one in England was apprized of its 
approach. Ethelred had not been long seated on the throne of 
Wessex, and Northumbria was still shaken by internal revolu- 
tions; for Osbert, who had been expelled by Ella from the Deiri, 
was now making preparations to regain the kingdom. The 
Danes did not, however, commence hostilities so soon as they 



THE DANES IN NORTHUMBRIA. 157 

landed, but quietly over-awing the country by their mighty 
force, they took up their winter-quarters within their intrench- 
ments, and moored their vessels along the shore. They de- 
manded a supply of horses; the king of East Anglia furnished 
them; he intruded not upon their encampment, neither did they 
molest him. The rest of the Saxon states looked calmly on, 
trusting that the tempest would burst where it had gathered, 
and that they should escape the terrible storm; but they were 
doomed to be disappointed. With the first warm days of Spring, 
the whole Danish host was in motion; such an army had never 
before overrun the British island. The sons of Ragnar strode 
sullenly onward at its head. They halted not until they reached 
York, the metropolis of the Deira; they swept through the 
city in their devastating march, leaving sorrow, and slaughter, 
and death, to mark their footsteps; destroying all before them 
as they passed, until they reached the banks of the Tyne. 
Osbert and Ella had by this time become united, and began to 
advance at the head of a large army, which numbered amongst 
its commanders eight earls. The Danes had again fallen back 
upon York, and near the outskirts of that city were first attacked 
hj the Northumbrians. The assault was so sudden that the 
pagans were compelled to fly into the city for shelter. Flushed 
with this temporary victory, the Saxons began to pull down the 
city walls, and once within its streets, the Danes then rose up, and 
fell upon the Northumbrians, whom they cut down with terrible 
slaughter — nearly the whole of the Saxon army perished. Ella 
fell alive into their hands, and horribly did the sons of Ragnar 
revenge their father's death. All the tortures which cruelty 
could devise, they inflicted upon him. So decisive was the 
victory, that Northumbria never again became a Saxon king- 
dom, but was ruled over with an iron hand by one of the sons of 
Ragnar. The work of vengeance could go no further; they had 
put the king to a lingering and agonizing death, and having 
desolated his kingdom, one of the sons of the terrible sea-king, 
whose spirit they had appeased, sat down upon the vacant throne, 
and, from the Tyne unto the Humber, reigned the undisputed 
sovereign. Thus was the death of Ragnar revenged. Having 
once taken possession of the kingdom, the Danes began to fortify 
York, and to strengthen the principal towns in the neighbour- 
hood. From Northumberland to the shores of the Humber they 
strengthened their great mustering ground, and made it a rally- 



158 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

ing point for all the sea-kings who had courage enough to brave 
the perils of the Baltic, and venture their lives, like the sons of 
Kagnar, for a kingdom. All who had aided in revenging the 
death of Ragnar, now invited their kindred and followers over 
to England. They came in shoals, until Northumbria was filled 
like an overstocked hive that awaits a favourable opportunity to 
swarm. 

That deep buzzing was soon heard which denoted that they 
were ready to swarm, for there was now no longer room for so 
many. The dark cloud passed with a humming sound through the 
Deiri, along the pleasant valley of the Trent, through the wild 
forest of Sherwood, whose old oaks then stood in all their 
primitive grandeur, until they saw before them the walls of 
Nottingham rising high above their rocky foundation. The 
inhabitants fled into the surrounding forest, or hurried over the 
Trent into the adjoining county of Lincolnshire, where Burrhed, 
the king of Mercia, resided. Alarmed by the rumour of such 
an host, the Mercian king sent into Wessex for assistance; and 
Ethelred, joined by his brother Alfred, who was now slowly 
rising, like a star on the rim of the horizon, hastened with their 
united armies to assist the Mercian king. But the Danes were 
too strongly entrenched within the walls of Nottingham to be 
driven out by the combined forces of Mercia and Wessex. The 
Saxons, well aware of the strength of these fortifications, were 
compelled to encamp without the walls, for the tall rocky barriers 
on which the castle yet stands, and the precipitous and 
cavernous heights which still look down upon the river Lene, 
formed strong natural barriers from which the Danish sentinels 
could look down with triumph, and defy the assembled host 
that lay encamped at their feet. After some delay, a treaty was 
entered into between the contending armies, and the Danes agreed 
to fall back upon York; the river Idel, which is so narrow that the 
points of two long lances would meet, if held by a tall chieftain 
on either shore, was the slender barrier that divided the opposing 
nations ; a roe-buck from a rising summit could readily overleap 
it, and in an hundred places it was fordable. Ethelred and his 
brother Alfred, (who had now numbered about nineteen years,) 
led back their army into Wessex, and allowed the Danes to 
pursue their way quietly into Deiri. This forbearance is 
greatly censured by the early historians, but we must bear in 
mind that Alfred was not yet king, and that Ethelred but came 



THE DANES IN NORTHUMBRIA. 159 

up as an ally on the side of Mercia. He who was destined to be- 
come the greatest sovereign that ever sat upon the English throne, 
was at this period one of the most daring followers of the chase, 
for, although he was from childhood a martyr to a painful disease, 
yet where the antlered monarch of the forest led the way, there 
was Alfred to be seen foremost amongst the hunters. Young as he 
was, he had already married a Mercian lady, called Ealswitha, 
and some portion of Wessex was allotted to him, probably such 
as had been held by his father Ethelwulph, when the subjects 
rebelled on account of his step-mother Judith. Slightly as we 
have passed by this frail fair lady, Alfred was greatly indebted 
to her; she first tempted him to read when he was only twelve 
years of age; but for her he might, like his brothers, have re- 
mained in ignorance. She first pointed out the path which 
guided him to the literature of Rome; he had trod the streets of 
the " eternal city," and his wise laws tell us the use he made of 
his learning. 

We are compelled to drag the great king bit by bit before 
our readers, lest we should startle them by his too sudden 
appearance; for he seems to rise above the age in which he 
lived with an unnatural majesty — there is no relief near to 
where he stands, no neighbouring summit which he might 
descend that would seem to lessen his giant form in its shadow; 
— bold and bare and giant-like his god-imaged figure heaves up, 
and with its mighty shadow eclipses the very sunset which, 
though ever sinking, leaves not in gloom the bright form that 
makes the " darkness visible" by which it is surrounded. 



160 ' HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

CHAPTER XX. 

RAVAGES OF THE DANES— DEATH OF ETHELEED. 

" We look in vain for those old ruins now, 

For the green grass waves o'er that ample floor, 

And where the altar stood rank nettles grow ; 

None mourned its fall more than the neighbouring poor, 

They passed its ruins sighing, day by day, 

And missed the beadsman in his hood of gray, 

Who never bade the hungry turn away." — The Old Abbet. 

Spring, that gives such life and beauty to the landscape, but 
aroused the Danes to new aggressions, and they this time 
marched into the opposite division of Mercia, crossing the 
Humber and the Trent, and landing in that part of Lincolnshire 
which is still called Lindsey, where they spread death and deso- 
lation wherever they passed. From north to south they swept 
onward like a destroying tempest; the busy hamlet, the happy 
home, and the growing harvest, all vanished beneath their foot- 
steps. Where in the morning sunshine, the pleasant village, 
and the walled town, stood upon the high cliffs and overlooked 
the wild wold and reedy marish ; the dim twilight dropped 
down upon a waste of smoking ruins, and blackened ashes, while 
such of the inhabitants as escaped the merciless massacre, either 
sheltered in the gloomy wood, where " the grey wolf of the weald" 
had its lair, or in the sedgy swamp where the wild swan built, 
and the black water-hen went paddling onward before her dusky 
and downy young ones. Wherever a church or a monastery stood 
up amid the scenery, thitherward the Danes directed their steps, 
for to slaughter the priest at the altar, and carry their clamorous 
war-cry into the choir, where they changed the hymning of the 
psalter into the groans and shrieks of agonised death, was to 
them a delight, equal to that of the heaven which they hoped to 
inhabit hereafter. But sack, slay, burn, and destroy, are words 
which but faintly describe the ravages of these Northern 
pagans, that fall upon the ear with an indistinct meaning; 
and it is only by following them step by step, and bringing their 
deeds before the eye of the reader, that we can throw the 
moving shadows of these savage sea-kings for a moment upon 



RAVAGES OF THE DANES — DEATH OF ETHELRED. 161 

our pages. Having ravaged the district of Lindsey, destroyed 
the beautiful monastery of Bardney, and killed every monk 
they found within its walls, they crossed the Witham, and en- 
tered that division of Lincolnshire which is called Kesteven — 
here a stand was made against them. The earl of Algar, with 
his two officers, Wibert and Leofric, mustered together the in- 
habitants who dwelt around the wild and watery neighbourhood 
of CrOyland, and being joined by the forces which Osgot the she- 
riff of Lincoln had collected, and aided by a monk who had once 
been a famous warrior, and now cast aside his cowl to don a 
heavy helmet, they sallied forth in the September of 868, and 
gave battle to the Danes. After a sharp contest, in which three 
of the sea-kings were slain, the men of Mercia drove the 
pagans into their intrenchments, nor did they cease from assail- 
ing them in their stronghold until darkness had settled down 
upon the land. But a thousand men, though backed by so good 
a cause, were sure to fall at last before such a mighty and over- 
whelming host as the invaders presented. 

It so chanced that during the day, when the handful of brave 
Saxons were victorious, the Danish forces had divided, but in 
the night the division, which had been delayed by their work of 
destruction, entered the camp, into which the defeated force had 
been driven. Thus, by daylight, the pagan army was more 
than doubled. Amongst these new comers were the two sea- 
kings who had taken such terrible vengeance on Ella, for the 
death of their father, Kagnar. The arrival of such a force spread 
great consternation amongst the little band of Saxons, who were 
encamped without the Danish intrenchments, and many of the 
peasants fled during the night to their homes — the brave only 
remained behind to die. In the early dawn of that bygone 
Autumn morning, the Danes arose and buried the three sea- 
kings w ho had fallen the day before in battle. The Saxons looked 
calmly on, but moved not, until the solemn ceremony was 
ended: the savage Hubba was present at that funeral. Algar 
stood ready, with his little force drawn up in the form of a wedge; 
he placed himself and his officers in the centre, confided the right 
wing to the monk Tolius, and the left to the sheriff of Lincoln; 
•they planted their shields so closely together, that each one 
touched its fellow; they held their strong projecting spears point- 
ing outward with a firm grasp, for they knew that their safety 
depended upon being thus banded together, and thus, awaiting 



162 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

the attack, the solid wedge-like triangle stood. Leaving behind 
a sufficient force to protect their encampment, which was filled 
with plunder and captives, the remainder of the Danes, headed 
by four kings and eight jarls or earls, sallied forth to give battle 
to the Saxons. The first shock was terrible, but it broke not 
the well-formed phalanx, though it jarred along the lines like a 
chain that is struck; for a moment each link swung, there was a 
waving motion along the ranks, then the horsemen recoiled again, 
for the line was still unbroken. The Danish javelins pene- 
trated only the shields, the horses shrank back from the piercing 
points of the Saxon spears. Savage Hubba could not get near 
enough to strike with his heavy battle-axe — the morning-star, 
which made bright flashes around the head of Ingwar as he 
wielded it, swung harmless before that bristling forest of steel. 

Upon the lonely moors and the damp marshes a dim mist be- 
gan to gather, and along the distant ridge where the wild forest 
stretched far away, the evening shadows began to fall, when the 
Danes, wearied and enraged at being so long repulsed, made 
another attack; — then wheeling round, feigned a defeat. In vain 
was the warning voice of the earl of Algar raised; in vain did the 
monk intreat of them, by the name of every blessed saint in the 
calendar, to stand firm; it was too late — the little band was broken 
— they were off in the pursuit — the Danes were flying before them 
— and onward they rushed, making the air resound again with the 
shouts of victory. Suddenly the Danish force turned upon their 
pursuers. Hubba made a circle with his cavalry to the right; to the 
left the centre came back like an overwhelming wave, and the 
Saxons were surrounded. All was lost. Neither the skill of 
Algar nor the bravery of Tolius were now of any avail; there 
was nothing left but to stand side by side, and to fight until they 
fell. But few of that brave band escaped; those who did, availed 
themselves of the approaching darkness, and plunging into the 
adjoining forest, hastened to the distant monastery of Croyland, 
to publish their own defeat. 

It was the hour of matins, when, pale, weary, and breathless, 
two or three of the Saxon youths who had escaped from the 
scene of slaughter, rushed into the choir of the monastery 
with the tidings that all excepting themselves had perished. 
The abbot uplifted his hand to command silence when he saw 
them enter, and the solemn anthem in a moment ceased. He 
then bade the monks who were young and strong, to take a 
boat, and carry off the relics of the saints, the sacred vessels, 



RAVAGES OP THE DANES — DEATH OP ETHELRED. 163 

jewels, books, and charters, and all the moveable articles of 
value, and either to bury them in the marshes, or sink them 
beneath the waters of the lake, until the storm had passed 
over. " As for myself," added the abbot, " I will remain here, 
with the old men and children, and peradventure, by the mercy 
of God, they may take pity on our weakness." The children 
were such as at that period were frequently brought up, by the 
consent of their parents, in the habits of a monastic life, and who 
in their early years sung in the choir: — amongst the old monks 
were two whose years outnumbered an hundred. Alas! the 
venerable abbot might as well have looked for mercy from a herd 
of ravenous and howling wolves, that came, gaunt, grey, and 
hungry, from the snow-covered wintry forest, as from the mis- 
believing Danes, who were then fast approaching. All was 
done as he commanded; the most valuable treasures were rowed 
across the lake to the island of Thorns, and in the wood of An- 
carig, those who were not brave enough to abide the storm found 
shelter. One rich table plated with gold, that formed a portion of 
the great altar, rose to the surface, and as they could not sink it, 
it was taken back, and again restored to its place in the monas- 
tery. 

Meantime the flames which shone redly between the forest- 
trees, told that the last village had been fired; every moment 
brought nearer the clamour of the assailants, until at last the 
tramp of horses could be distinctly heard: then the ominous 
banner on which the dusky raven was depicted hove in sight, 
and the whole mass came up with a deep, threatening murmur, 
which drowned the voice of the abbot and the monks, and the 
little children, as they continued to chaunt the psalter in the 
monastery. At the foot of the altar, in his sacerdotal robes, was 
the abbot hewn down; the grey hairs of the venerable priests 
protected them not — those who rushed out of the choir were pur- 
sued and slaughtered; there was scarcely a slab on the floor of 
the sacred edifice that was not slippery with blood. Some were 
tortured to make them confess where their treasures were con- 
cealed, and afterwards beheaded, for the Danes acted more like 
fiends, let loose to do the work of destruction, than like men. 
There was one exception on that dreadful day — one human life 
was saved by the intervention of a Dane, and but for him every 
soul would have perished. The prior had been struck down 
early in the massacre by the battle-axe of Hubba; as he lay dead 

m2 



164 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

upon the pavement, a little boy about ten years of age clung to 
him and wept bitterly, for he had been greatly attached to the 
prior. The slaughter was still going on, when Sidroc, one of 
the sea-kings, paused with the uplifted sword in his hand to 
gaze on the boy, who knelt weeping beside the dead body of the 
prior- Struck by his beautiful and innocent countenance, the 
Danish chief took off his cassock, and throwing it around the 
little chorister, said, " Quit not my side for a moment." He 
alone was saved — excepting those who had previously fled with 
the boat and the treasures. Disappointed at finding neither gold 
nor jewels, the pagans broke open the tombs, and scattered around 
the bones of the dead, and as there was no longer any one at 
hand to slay, they set fire to the monastery. Laden with cattle 
and plunder, they next proceeded to Peterborough, burning and 
slaying, and destroying whatever they met with on their 
march. 

The abbey of Peterborough was considered at this time as 
one of the finest ecclesiastical edifices in England. It was built 
in the solid Saxon style, with strong stunted pillars, crypts, 
vaulted passages, oratories, and galleries, while the thick massy 
walls were pierced with circular windows, and contained 
the finest library which had ever been collected together in 
Britain; the gift of many a pilgrim who had visited the still 
proud capital of Italy. The doors of this famous building were 
so strong that for some time they resisted the attacks of the 
Danes, and as the monks and their retainers had resolved to 
defend themselves as long as they could, neither the besieged 
nor the besiegers remained idle. Prom the circular windows, 
and the lofty roof of the abbey, the monks and their allies threw 
down heavy stones, and hurled their sharp javelins at the enemy, 
who had hitherto endeavoured in vain to break open the pon- 
derous doors. At last the brother of Hubba was struck to the 
earth by a stone, and carried wounded into his tent. 

This act seemed to redouble the fierce energy of the Danes, 
and in a few minutes after they drove in the massy gates. In 
revenge for the wound his brother had received, the brutal 
Hubba, with his own hand, put eighty-four monks to death; — he 
demanded to be the chief butcher on the occasion, and the re- 
quest was freely granted him. The child whom Sidroc had 
rescued from death at Croyland stood by and witnessed that 
savage slaughter, and the friend who had saved him stooped 



RAVAGES OF THE DANES DEATH OF ETHELRED. 165 

down, and whispering in his ear, bade him not approach too 
near Hubba. The boy, as we shall see, needed not a second 
warning. All who had aided in defending the monastery, ex- 
cepting the few who escaped at the commencement of the attack, 
were put to death. The library was burnt, the sepulchres broken 
open, and the abbey fired; and for nearly fifteen days was that 
noble edifice burning, before it was totally consumed. Many a 
deed and charter, and valuable manuscript, which would have 
thrown a light on the manners and customs of that period, were 
consumed in the flames. 

Laden with spoil, the merciless pagans next marched towards 
Huntingdon. Sidroc had charge of the rear-guard, which, 
brought up the plunder. Two of the cars, containing the spoil 
of the monastery, were overturned in a deep pool, while passing 
a river, and as the sea-king lingered behind, and was busily en- 
gaged in superintending his soldiers, and aiding them to save all 
they could from the wreck, the child who had witnessed such 
scenes of bloodshed took advantage of the confusion, and escaped. 
Having concealed himself in a wood until the faint and far-off 
sounds of the Danish army had died away, he set off across the 
wild marshes alone, and in the course of a day and a night 
found his way back again to Croyland. Poor little fellow ! the 
smoking ruins and the weeping monks, who had returned from 
their hiding-place in the island of Thorns, and who were then 
wailing over their murdered brethren, were the melancholy 
sights and sounds that greeted his return home; — a stern school 
was that for a child of ten years old to be nursed in! He told 
them all he had witnessed at Peterborough; they gathered 
around him to listen; they ceased to throw water on the burn- 
ing ruins until his tale was ended; they left the headless body 
of their venerable abbot beneath the mighty beam which had 
fallen across it, nor attempted to extricate it until he had finished 
" his sad, eventful history." Then it was that they again wept 
aloud, throwing themselves upon the ground in their great 
anguish, until grief had no longer any tears, and the sobbing of 
sorrow had settled down into hopeless silence. That over, they 
again commenced their sad duty: the huge grave was deepened, 
the dead and mutilated bodies were dragged from under the 
burning ruins, and placing the abbot on the top of the funeral 
pile, they left them in one grave, covered beneath the same 
common earth, to sleep that sleep which no startling dream can 
ever disturb. 



166 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

Scarcely was this melancholy duty completed, before the few 
monks who had escaped from the massacre of Peterborough 
made their appearance. They had come all that way for assist- 
ance, for, excepting themselves, there were none left alive to 
help to bury their murdered brethren, on whose bodies the 
wolves from the woods, they said, were already feeding. With 
heads bent, and weeping eyes, and breaking hearts, those poor 
monks had moved mournfully along, leaving the wolves to feed 
upon their butchered brothers beside the blackened ruins of their 
monastery, until they could find friends who would help them 
to drag the half-consumed remains from beneath the burning 
rafters, place them side by side, and, without distinction, bury 
them in one common and peaceful grave. How clearly we can 
picture that grave group on their journey! their subdued con- 
versation by the way, of the dead, whose good deeds they dis- 
cussed, or whose vices they left untouched, as they recalled their 
terrible ending; the country through which they passed, desolate; 
the inhabitants, who were wont to come on holy-days to worship, 
fled; a hamlet here reduced to ashes, there a well-known form, 
half consumed, stretched across the blackened threshold. We 
can picture the wolf stealing away until they had passed; the 
raven, with his iron and ominous note, making a circle round 
their heads, then returning to the mother or the infant, half 
hidden in the sedge beside the mere, or with her long hair float- 
ing loose amongst the water-flags, amid which she was stabbed 
as she ran shrieking, with the infant at her breast. Wherever 
they turned their eyes, there would they behold desolation, and 
death, and decay, — see homes which the fire had consumed, 
in ruins; or where the children had escaped, witness them weep- 
ing beside the roofless walls, fatherless, motherless, hopeless; for 
such was the England of those days, over which the destroying 
sea-kings passed. Let us, however, hope, that there were a few 
like Sidroc amongst them; that the raven and the wolf were 
not their only attendants, but that the angel of mercy, though 
concealed in a pillar of cloud by day, and in a pillar of fire by 
night, was still there, and though unseen, many a time stretched 
forth his hand to rescue. It is painful to picture such scenes as 
our history presents at this period; they are all either soaked 
through with the blood of the slain, or black and crackled with 
the scorching flames which have passed over them. It makes 
us shudder to think what they who once lived and moved as we 



RAVAGES OF THE DANES DEATH OP ETHELRED. 167 

now do, must have endured ; while, after the lapse of nearly a 
thousand years, we cannot portray their sufferings without 
sympathizing with their sorrows, and experiencing a low, heart- 
aching sensation. The grave that covers up and buries the past, 
inters not all pain and sorrow with the dead, but leaves a por- 
tion behind, that the living may feel what they once suffered — 
the agonizing shriek, and the heart-rending cry, ring for ages 
after upon our ears; — such sounds disturb not the silent chambers 
of the dead! 

The Danes now proceeded to march into East Anglia, a 
kingdom whose inland barrier was marked by vast sheets of 
water that set in from the Wash, and went winding away into 
the low marshes of Cambridge, far away beyond Ely, over a 
country above an hundred miles in extent. Along this boggy 
and perilous course did the pagans advance with their plunder, 
their cars, and their cavalry; razing the monastery of Ely to the 
ground as they passed, nor pausing until they came to the re- 
sidence of the king of East Anglia, which stood beside a river 
that then divided Suffolk from Norfolk. When the Danish 
king came in sight of Edmund's residence, he sent him a mes- 
sage, commanding him to divide his treasures with him; also 
bidding the messenger to tell the East Anglian king that it 
was useless to oppose a nation whom the storms of the ocean 
favoured — whom the tempests served as rowers, and the light- 
ning came down to guide, that they might in dark nights escape 
the rocks. They gave the Saxon king but little time for hesi- 
tation before they dragged him forth, and bound him to a tree. 
They had no words to waste: slaughter was their work, and 
they commenced it at once. They began by shooting arrows 
at his limbs, without injuring the body; but finding that they 
could neither get him to confess their superiority, nor show any 
symptom of fear, Ingwar at last uplifted his heavy battle-axe, 
and severed the head at a blow. Thus, East Anglia, like a portion 
of Northumbria, became a Danish province; and Godrun, a 
celebrated sea-king, whom we shall again meet during thejreign 
of Alfred, was placed upon the throne. 

Their next step was towards Wessex; for they well knew 
that if they could but once conquer that kingdom, the dominions 
of Mercia would become an easy prey, as these were the 
only two Saxon states that seemed able to withstand them. 
Wessex, as we have shown, was much enlarged since the first 



168 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

formation of the octarchy, and was soon destined to swallow up 
for ever the kingdom of Mercia; for Burrhed was not compe- 
tent to stand long at the helm and steer safely through such a 
storm as surrounded him. Having reached Berkshire, the 
Northmen took possession of Reading without opposition, when 
they at once sent out a strong body of cavalry to plunder, while 
the remainder of the army commenced throwing up an intrench - 
ment to strengthen their position. Scarcely had they time to 
complete this work before the West Saxons attacked them; and 
though at the first they seem to have had the best of the battle, 
they were in the end compelled to retreat, and leave the in- 
vaders masters of the field. At the second attack, both Ethel- 
red and Alfred were present; they led up the strongest array 
that could be mustered; — to every town, thorpe, and grange, war- 
messengers had been despatched with the naked sword and arrow 
in their hands, uttering the ancient proclamation, which none 
had hitherto disobeyed, and which bade " each man to leave his 
house and land, and come;" the mustering ground was near 
-ZEscesdun, or Ash-tree Hill. The Danes divided their army 
into two bodies, each of which was commanded by two kings 
and two earls. Ethelred followed the example they had set him, 
giving the command of one division of his army to Alfred. As 
the Danes had been the first to form into battle order, so did 
they commence the attack; and although they had the advantage 
of the rising ground, Alfred, nothing daunted, led his forces in 
close order up the ascent to meet them. Near the hoar ash-tree 
the contending ranks closed, and there many a Dane and Saxon 
fell, who never more passed that barrier until they were borne 
away on the bier. Although Ethelred had heard the war-cry, 
and knew that the battle had commenced, he refused to leave 
his tent until his priest had finished the prayer which he was 
offering up, when the Danes first charged down the hill-side. 
By the time it was ended, Alfred, with his inferior force, though 
fighting their way foot to foot, were slowly losing ground, and 
but for the timely appearance of Ethelred, and the division under 
his command, he must have retreated. As it was, however, the 
sudden arrival of such a strong force changed the fortune of the 
day. One of the sea-kings fell; and beside him, Sidroc, who 
had saved the child from the massacre of Croyland; then the 
Danish ranks began to waver, for thousands of the invaders had 
already fallen. But the carnage ended not here: all night long 



RAVAGES OF THE DANES DEATH OF ETHELEED. 169 

did the Saxons chase their pagan enemies, until, towards the 
evening of the next day, and from the foot of the hill where 
the battle was fought — far away over the fields of Ashdown, and 
over the country that now lies beside Ashbury, up to the very 
intrenchment at Reading — was the whole line of road strewn 
with the dying and the dead; — there the massacre of Croyland 
and Peterborough was revenged, and for days after the bodies 
of the Danes lay blackening in the sun. But terrible as was 
the slaughter, and complete the victory, a fortnight saw the 
Northmen again in the field, strengthened by reinforcements, 
who had landed upon the coast, and by these were the Saxons, 
in their turn, defeated. In the next battle that was fought 
between them, Ethelred received his death wound; and Alfred 
the Great ascended the throne of Wessex. Over the threshold 
of this perilous period must we now pass, to the presence of one 
of England's greatest kings, 



CHAPTER XXI. 

ACCESSION AND ABDICATION OF ALFEED. 

" In fortune's love — then the bold and coward, 
The wise and fool, the artist and unread, 
The hard and soft, seem all affin'd and kin ; — 
But in the wind and tempest of her frown, 
Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan, 
Puffing at all, winnows the light away." — Shakspeee. 

Alfred was scarcely twenty-two years of age when he ascended 
the throne of Wessex — it was on the eve of a defeat when the 
sceptre fell into his hands — when the Danes were flushed with 
victory, and nearly all England lay prostrate at their feet. With 
such a gloomy prospect before him, we can easily account for the 
reluctance he showed in accepting the crown, although it was 
offered to him by all the chiefs and earls who formed the witena- 
gemot, when there were children of his elder brother Ethel- 
bald alive, who, according to the Saxon order of succession, were 
the next heirs to the crown. But the Wessex nobles were 



170 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

already well acquainted with Alfred's talents, for during the 
twelve months prior to his accession, he had distinguished him- 
self in eight pitched battles against the Danes, and had fought in 
many an unrecorded skirmish against parties of the enemy who 
were sent out to forage. Alfred well knew that the death of 
Ethelred would hardly leave him breathing-time, before he 
should again be compelled to take the field; that he also had to 
fight under the disadvantage which necessarily attends a defeat; 
while the enemy came swelling in all the triumph of recent 
victory; that he had to repair his late losses, and rouse afresh 
his subjects, who were still smarting with the wounds they had 
received from their conquerors, while the invaders were made 
more daring by every conquest, and more insolent by every 
concession. Such was the state of the kingdom into which 
Alfred was ushered by the death of his brother: nor was this 
all — he no doubt, with his clear eye, saw that it was no longer a 
mere struggle between two parties, where the one seeks to 
plunder, and the other to protect his property, but a contest for 
the very land on which they fought. The Danes had ceased to 
trust for safety to their " sea-horses" — they had abandoned " the 
road of the swans," they but travelled over it to a land in which 
their countrymen were now kings, where their brethren were in 
the possession of cities and lands — they came to share in the in- 
heritance of the soil — either to find their future homes, or their 
graves in England. The prize each party was now contending 
for, was England itself — it was neither more nor less than to 
decide whether our island should in future be ruled over by the 
Danes, or the Saxons. It was but what the Romans had before- 
time aspired to, and what, after a hard struggle, the Saxons 
themselves had accomplished. Well might Alfred despair when 
he looked at his shattered army, and saw how small a portion 
of England he possessed. 

What had he gained by the eight hard-fought battles he shared 
in the year before his accession to the crown? The places of 
those whom he had helped to hew down were filled up again by 
the first favourable wind that blew towards his ill-starred king- 
dom; as the grave closed over the dead, the sea threw another 
living shoal upon the coast — none returned — if they retreated, 
it was but to some neighbouring intrenchment, or some kingdom 
over which a sea-king reigned. Alfred had not sat upon the 
throne of Wessex a month, before his army was attacked, at 



ACCESSION AND ABDICATION OF ALFRED. 171 

Wilton, during his absence, and defeated by the Northmen. 
Wearied of a war which only brought victory to-day, to be fol- 
lowed by defeat on the morrow, he made peace with his enemies, 
and they left the kingdom of Wessex, though on what terms we 
know not, unless it was that Alfred agreed not to assist the king 
of Mercia, as his brother Ethelred had frequently done. It 
would almost appear by their marching at once into Mercia, that 
such were the conditions on which they quitted Wessex. 

Nine battles in one year must have made a sad opening 
amongst the West Saxons, for, unlike the Danes, they had no 
ships constantly arriving upon the coast to fill up the places of 
those that were slain. Oh, how the young king must have 
yearned for retirement, and his books! when he looked round 
and saw the miserable and almost defenceless state of his kingdom 
— his brave warriors dropping off daily, and none to close the 
gap that was left open in his ranks. Let us leave him for a 
brief space — his heart heavy, his soul sad, and his head resting 
upon his hand, with not a ray of hope to cheer him, excepting 
his trust in God — while we follow the footsteps of the Danes. 

That part of the Danish army which abandoned Wessex took 
up its winter quarters in London, at about the same time that 
another portion of the invaders marched from Northumbria, and 
wintered at Repton, in Derbyshire, where they sacked and de- 
stroyed the beautiful monastery, which for above two centuries 
had been the burial-place of the Mercian kings ; and, as at Croy- 
land and Peterborough, they broke open the sepulchres and 
scattered abroad the ashes of the Saxon monarchs. Twice had 
Burrhed, the king of Mercia, negotiated with these truce- 
breakers, as the old chroniclers called them, and finding that 
they paid no regard to their oaths, and wearied with such a 
repetition of conflicts, Burrhed quitted his throne, went to Rome, 
where he died, and left his subjects to struggle on, or perish, as 
they best could. Instead of placing one of their own kings upon 
the throne of Mercia, the Danes gave the crown to Ceolwulf, 
under the stipulation that he should pay them tribute, and assist 
them with his forces whenever he was called upon; and that 
when he ceased to fulfil these conditions, he should from that 
moment resign his power. It would almost appear that there 
was so little left in the kingdom of Mercia worth their taking 
that they left him to gather up the remainder of the spoil, while 
they turned their attention to more substantial plunder; but his 



172 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. 

reign was short: he was hated by those by whom he was em- 
ployed, as well as by those whom he plundered, for he robbed 
alike the peasant, the merchant, the clergy, and even on the 
remnant of the poor monks of Croyland, whose brethren had been 
slain, and whose abbey had been destroyed, regardless of their 
losses and their sufferings, he imposed a tax of a thousand pounds. 
But in spite of this stern severity, he soon grew into disfavour 
with his new masters, was stripped of everything, and perished 
miserably. After his death, Mercia never existed again as a 
kingdom, but was blotted out for ever from the Saxon octarchy 
as a distinct state; and in an after day, when the power of the 
invaders began to wane, it was united by Alfred to Wessex, 
never again to exist as a separate province. 

The arena of England was now only occupied by two powers; 
on the one hand, by Alfred, with his little kingdom and his mere 
handful of West Saxons: on the other, by the Danes, who were 
in possession of nearly the whole of the remainder of the island 
— for, with the exception of the kingdom of Wessex, all the 
rest of the Saxon states were in the hands of the invaders. 

Three of the Danish sea-kings, named Godrun, Oskitul, and 
Amund, having, with their army, wintered at Cambridge, set 
out again, early in the spring, to attack Wessex; to give 
Alfred another proof how useless it was by either treaty or con- 
cession to hope to put off the evil day. This time they brought 
a large force to oppose him, and besides crossing the country, 
they sailed round by Dorsetshire, where they stormed the castle 
of Wareham; and though Alfred destroyed the i# r ships, those 
who passed inland devastated the country for miles around. 
Alfred seems at this period to have grown weary of war, to 
have lost all heart and hope, and, for the first time, he purchased 
peace of them with gold; nor was he long before he had to 
repent of such timid policy, for although they swore as usual 
upon their bracelets, and even, at his request, pledged them- 
selves solemnly upon the relics of the Christian saints, yet only 
a few nights after this useless ceremony, they rushed upon his 
encampment, slew a great portion of his cavalry, and, carrying 
off the horses, mounted their own soldiers upon them, and 
rode off to Exeter, where they passed the following winter. 
Though weary and dispirited, Alfred did not remain idle, but 
commenced building larger ships and galleys, so that he might 
be better able to compete with his enemies upon the ocean. 



ACCESSION AND ABDICATION OF ALFRED, 173 

Such a plan, had it been pursued earlier by the Saxon kings, 
would have caused thousands of th<5 Northmen to have found 
their graves in the ocean ere their feet touched our coast; 
but now the whole land behind him was filled with enemies, 
from the edge of the Channel, which his own kingdom over- 
looked, deep down, and far inland, to where the green lands of 
England stretched unto the Frith of Forth. Hopeless as it nov 
was, Alfred boldly sallied forth with his ships, to encounter a 
fleet of Northmen off the Hampshire coast, where, having suffered 
much damage in a previous storm, the Danes were defeated, with 
the loss of one hundred and twenty of their ships. Emboldened 
by this success, Alfred collected his army and went forth to 
attack the Danes in their stronghold at Exeter. Here, how- 
ever, instead of renewing the assault, and turning to advan- 
tage the victory which he had obtained at sea, he contented 
himself with a few hostages, and a renewal of the oaths, which 
his experience ought to have taught him they would break on 
the first favourable occasion, and allowed them once more to 
depart into Mercia. We can only account for this strange con- 
duct on the part of Alfred by believing that the population of 
Wessex had been greatly thinned by the rapid succession of 
battles which had been fjught at the close of the reign of 
Ethelred. 

We now arrive at the most unaccountable action in the life 
of this great king, the abdication of his throne, and desertion of 
his subjects. His real cause for acting in this strange manner 
(unless some new and authentic document should be brought to 
light) will never be known. In the January of 878, the Danes 
attacked Chippenham; it is not clearly proved that Alfred 
struck a single blow; all we really know for truth is that many 
of the West Saxons fled, some of them quitting England, that 
Alfred was nowhere to be found, not even by his most intimate 
friends. These are historical truths, too clearly proved to 
remain for a moment doubtful. The cause we will as carefully 
examine as if the great Saxon king stood on his trial before us, 
for the honour of Alfred is dear to every Englishman, for though 
dead "he yet speaketh" in the wise laws he has bequeathed 
to us. 

We know, from many authorities, that when the Danes 
invaded Wessex in January, numbers of the inhabitants fled. 
The effect such conduct would produce on a sensitive mind like 



174 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

Alfred's, it is easy to picture; his sensations would be a mingle- 
ment of pity, contempt, and disgust, and his proud heart would 
inwardly feel that they knew not how to value him aright; that 
if left to themselves for a little time they would then know how 
to estimate the king they had lost. We could fill a chapter 
with good, tangible reasons, showing why Alfred acted as he 
did, and yet we should, probably, after all, fall far short of the 
true cause. It might be injured pride, stern necessity, or the 
very despair which drives men to retire from the contest, to 
wait for better days. There is one undeniable point clearly in 
Iris favour, he did not retreat to enjoy a life of luxury and ease, 
but to endure one of hardship, privation, and suffering. In 
this he still remained the great and noble-hearted king. Asser, 
who loved him, clearly proves that Alfred, at this time, laboured 
under a low, desponding, and melancholy feeling. His words 
are, " He fell often into such misery that none of his subjects 
knew what had befallen him." 

Surely no king had ever greater cause to feel unhappy; 
the man who, day after day, struggles on, and still finds 
matters worse on the morrow, becomes weary of the ever- 
flickering rays of hope, grows desperate, and plunges amongst 
the deepest shadows of despair; others, again, through very 
despondency, fold their arms, and wait until the worst comes, 
as if a fatality overwhelmed them, for all human perseverance 
hath its limits; these once passed, men become believers in 
inevitable destiny. To these Alfred, at this time, probably 
belonged. 

It appears that Alfred did not desert his subjects before they 
deserted him; and after the many battles that were fought 
within the year which saw him king of Wessex, we can readily 
conceive he had not a single soldier to spare. He is accused, 
by those who knew him well, who conversed with him fre- 
quently, and saw him daily, of having been high, haughty, and 
severe; in a word, of looking down with contempt upon 
those around him. This is a grave charge; but where, with 
one or two exceptions, could he in his whole kingdom find 
a kindred mind to his own? Asser loved him, but he was an 
exception. His relation, Neot, rebuked him, and a young 
king would but ill brook lecturing. His chiefs or earls were 
brave, but illiterate men, not even fit companions for his own 
cabinet; for he was familiar with the forms of government in 



ACCESSION AND ABDICATION OP ALFRED. 175 

civilized Rome and classic Greece; and, excepting when engaged 
in the battle-field, there could be no reciprocal feeling between 
them. These were the sharp and forbidding angles that time 
was sure to smooth down; but the Saxon nobles could not com* 
prehend how they ever came to exist — they did not understand 
him. There is nothing new in this — it occurs every day. Let 
a man of superior intelligence rise up in a meeting of unlettered 
boors, and he will find some amongst the herd ready to oppose 
him, and these generally the least ignorant of the mass, but 
jealous of one whose capabilities stretch so far beyond their own. 
Who knows how many heart-burnings of this kind he had to 
endure, when assembled with his barbarous councillors — His 
mind was not their mind, his thoughts soared far above their 
understanding. Where they believed they distinguished the 
right, he would at a glance discover palpable wrong; where 
they doubted, he had long before come to a clear conviction. 
And no marvel that he at times treated their ignorant clamours 
with contempt, for he appears to have been as decided and hasty 
as he was intelligent and brave. He was young. The chil- 
dren of his eldest brother were now men, and from their high 
station would take an active part in the government. Accord- 
ing to the order of Saxon succession, one of these ought to have 
sat upon the throne of Wessex. Who more likely than they to 
oppose his wise plans — to thwart him when he was anxiously 
labouring for the good of his subjects? All that has been brought 
against him but proves that he was hasty in his temper, high 
and haughty, and unbending when in the right; and somewhat 
severe in the administration of justice, especially upon those 
whom he had appointed as judges, when he found them guilty of 
tampering with it for selfish ends. 

It will be borne in mind, that after Alfred had compelled the 
Danes to abandon Exeter, they retired into Mercia, where, in the 
autumn, they were joined by a strong force of Northmen, another 
cloud of those " locusts of the Baltic." They entered Wessex 
at the close of the year, and in January had taken up their 
winter quarters at Chippenham in Wiltshire, it would almost 
appear, without meeting any opposition; for very little depen- 
dence can be placed on the account of Alfred having been 
attacked while celebrating Christmas there; of numbers being 
slaughtered on both sides, and Alfred escaping alone in the 
night. No mention has been made of such a battle in the records 



176 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

which were written during Alfred's life, and which have 
descended to us. All we know for a certainty is, that on the 
approach of the Danes, many of the inhabitants fled in terror, 
some to the Isle of Wight, others into France; while numbers 
went over to Ireland. It is at this time that we find Alfred 
himself absent from his kingdom. " Such became his distress," 
says Turner, quoting from the old chronicles, " that he knew 
not where to turn; such was his poverty, that he had even no 
subsistence but that which by furtive or open plunder he could 
extort, not merely from the Danes, but even from those of his 
subjects who submitted to their government, or by fishing and 
hunting obtain. He w r andered about in woods and marshes in 
the greatest penury, with a few companions; sometimes, for 
greater secresy, alone. He had neither territory, nor for a 
time the hope of regaining any." 

Near to that spot where the rivers Thone and Parret meet, 
there is a beautiful tract of country, which still retains its old 
Saxon name of Athelney, now diversified by corn and pasture 
lands ; but at the time of Alfred, according to the description in 
the Life of St. Neot, written at that period, "it was surrounded 
by marshes, and so inaccessible, that no one could get to it, but 
by a boat; it had also a great wood of alders, which contained 
stags, goats, and many animals of that kind. Into this solitude 
Alfred had wandered, where, seeing the hut of a peasant, he 
turned to it, asked, and received shelter." It was in this hut 
that the incident occurred between the cowherd's wife and 
Alfred, which is so familiar to every reader of English history. 
We quote Asser's description, for there is no doubt that he gave 
it nearly literally, as he heard it from king Alfred's own lips: 
" It happened, that on a certain day the rustic wife of this man 
prepared to bake her bread; the king, sitting then near the 
hearth, was making ready his bows and arrows, and other war- 
like instruments, when the rough-tempered woman beheld the 
loaves burning at the fire. She ran hastily and removed them, 
scolding the king, and exclaiming: ' You man! you will not turn 
the bread you see burning, but you will be very glad to eat it 
when done.' This unlucky woman little thought," continues 
Asser, " that she was addressing the king, Alfred." 

This anecdote was often told in an after day, and no doubt 
awakened many a smile around the cheerful Saxon hearths, 
among both noble and lowly, when the brave monarch had 



ACCESSION AND ABDICATION OP ALFRED. 177 

either driven the ravagers from his dominion, or compelled the 
remnant to settle down peaceably in such places as he in his 
wisdom had allotted to them. And now, even through the dim 
distance of nearly a thousand years, we can call up the image of 
the Saxon king, with his grave, intelligent countenance, as he 
sat in the humble hut, preparing his weapons of the chase, his 
thoughts wandering far away to those he loved, or brooding 
thoughtfully over the causes which had forced him from his 
liigh estate. We can fancy the angry spot gathering for a 
moment upon his kingly brow, as, startled by the shrill clamour 
of the cowherd's wife, he half turned his head, and the faint, 
good-natured smile that followed, while the glowing embers threw 
a sunshine over his face, as he afterwards stooped down and 
turned the loaves which the rough-tempered, but warm-hearted 
Saxon woman had prepared for their homely meal; and this 
anecdote is all the more endeared to us by the fact that 
the noble-minded king, on a later day, recommended the cow- 
herd Denulf to the study of letters, and afterwards promoted 
him to a high situation in the church. While residing in the 
neighbourhood of this cowherd's hovel, says an old manuscript, 
written a century or two after these events, and attributed 
to an abbot of Croyland, " Alfred was one day casually re- 
cognised by some of his people, who, being dispersed, and 
flying all around, stopped where he was. An eager desire 
then arose both in the king and his knights to devise a remedy 
for their fugitive condition. In a few clays they constructed 
a place of defence as well as they could; and here, reco- 
vering a little of his strength, and comforted by the protection 
of a few friends, he began to move in warfare against his 
enemies. His companions were very few in number compared 
with the barbarian multitude, nor could they on the first day, or 
by their first attacks, obtain any advantages; yet they neither 
quitted the foe nor submitted to their defeats; but, supported by 
the hope of victory, as their small number gradually increased, 
they renewed their efforts, and made one battle but the prepa- 
ration for another. Sometimes conquerors and sometimes con- 
quered, they learned to overcome time by chance, and chance by 
time. The king, both when he failed, and when he was success- 
ful, preserved a cheerful countenance, and supported his friends 
by his example." 

What a rich, unwritten volume, does this last extract contain; 

N 



178 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

what a diary of valorous deeds, keen privations, and patient 
sufferings! What "footmarks on the sands of time" are here 
left ! These are the great gaps in history which we mourn over — 
the changes which Time has made, as he passed through the 
human ranks he has hewn down, and which we regret he has not 
chronicled. We would forgive the grim scythe-bearer the ten 
thousand battles he has buried in oblivion, had he but preserved 
for us one day of the life of Alfred on this lonely island — one brief 
record of what he said and did between sunrise and sunset, 
whilst he sojourned with Denulf, the cowherd. Alas! alas! 
Time has but shaken off the blood that dappled his pinions, 
upon the pages of History; the sweet dew-drops which hung 
like silver upon his plumes, and fed the flowers, have evaporated 
in the sunsets that saw them wither. 

Although a gloom seemed to have settled down upon the land 
during the absence of Alfred, yet all was not so hopeless as it 
appeared; for Hubba, who with his own hand had shed the 
blood of so many monks at the massacre of Peterborough, had 
himself been slain by Odun, the earl of Devonshire; and the 
magical banner which the three sisters of Hubba are said to 
have woven in one noontide, during which they ceased not to 
chaunt their mystic rhymes, had fallen into the hands of the 
Saxons. The rumour of such a victory cheered the heart of 
Alfred, and he must have felt humbled at the thought that, 
while he himself was inactive, there still existed English hearts 
that preferred pouring forth their best blood to becoming slaves 
to their invaders. 

To render his island retreat more secure, Alfred caused a 
defensive tower to be erected on each side of the bridge; and, 
as this was the only point of access by land, he there placed, as 
sentinels, a few of his most trusty followers, so that they might 
be ready to give the alarm in the event of their hiding-place being 
discovered. Scarcely a day passed, but he sallied forth at 
the head of his little band and assailed the enemy. Too weak 
to attack the main body, he hung upon, and harassed their 
foragers; he waylaid the Danish plunderers as they passed on 
their way to their camp with the spoil, and again wrested from 
them what they had wrung from his own countrymen. Day 
and night, Alfred and his followers were ever springing unaware 
upon the invaders from out the wood, the marsh, and the 
morass; wherever a clump of trees grew, or a screen of willows 



ACCESSION AND ABDICATION OF ALFRED. 179 

gave them shelter, there did the Saxons conceal themselves 
until the enemy appeared, when, rushing forth, they laid the 
spoilers low. Such a system of warfare made the king well 
acquainted with all the secret passes in the neighbourhood, and 
thus enabled him with his little band to thread his way securely 
between the bog and the morass, and to attack the Northmen at 
such unexpected points as they never dreamed it was possible 
for the enemy to pass. Such a rugged method of attack also 
inured them to hardships, kindled the martial spirit which 
had too long slumbered, and thus schooled Alfred in that 
generalship which he so skilfully brought to bear upon a larger 
scale when he overthrew the Danes. Even before his rank 
discovered, his fame had spread for miles around 
iounny; and all who had spirit enough to throw off the 
>h yoke, who preferred a life of freedom in the woods and 
an<| had sufficient courage to abandon their homes for the 
)f liberty, gathered around and fought under the banner 
island stranger. Such of the Saxons as had stooped 
towledge the Danish rulers, did not escape scathless from 
icks of Alfred and his followers; for he made them feel 
fble'was the power upon which their cowardly fears had 
themselves for protection, when measured beside the 
of their own patriotic countrymen. 
Of the straits to which he was sometimes driven, Time has 
preserved one touching record, which beautifully illustrates the 
benevolence of his character. One day, while his attendants 
were out hunting, or searching for provisions, and the king sat 
alone in the humble abode which had been hastily reared for his 
accommodation, whiling away the heavy hours by the perusal of 
a book, a poor man came up to him, weary and hungry, and 
asked his alms in God's name. Alfred took up the only loaf 
which remained, and, breaking it asunder, said, "It is one poor 
man visiting another;" then, thanking God that it was in his 
power to relieve the beggar, he shared his last loaf with him; 
for he well remembered his own privations when he first applied 
for shelter at the cowherd's hut. 

Turn we now to a brighter page in the life of this great king, 
when, emerging from his hiding-place, he seemed to spring up 
suddenly into a new existence, and by his brave and valorous 
deeds to startle alike both friend and foe. 

n2 




180 



CHAPTER XXII. 

ALFEED THE GREAT. 

" 'Tis much lie dare : 
And, to that dauntless temper of his mind, 
He hath a wisdom that doth guide his brain 
To act in safety." — Shakspere. 

Near Westbury, in Wiltshire, may still be seen a hill, which, 
as it overlooks the neighbouring plain, appears rugged, lofty, 
abrupt, and difficult of ascent; its summit is marked with the 
trenches and ditches which the Danes threw up when they were 
encamped upon and around it during the reign of Alfred. This 
spot the Saxon king resolved to visit in disguise before he 
risked the battle on which the fate of his kingdom depended. 
To accomplish this, he assumed the character of a harper, or 
gleeman, and approaching the enemy's outposts, he attracted the 
attention of the sentries by his singing and music; after playing 
for some time among the tents of the common soldiers, the 
minstrel was at last led by one of the Danish chiefs to the camp 
of Godrun, the sea king. "What were the thoughts of Alfred 
while he looked full in the face of his enemy as he stood before 
him in his tent? what was the air he played — the words he 
sang? — though Fancy stands ready, with her lips apart, to pour 
both into our ear, Truth, with a grave look, bids us pass on, 
and from her silence we know they are lost for ever. That 
Alfred narrowly reconnoitred their position, is best proved by 
the plan he adopted after the victory, when he drew a belt 
around the whole intrenchment. After he was dismissed from 
the Danish encampments with praise and presents (the latter the 
plunder of his own subjects), he hastened to his island retreat at 
Athelney, and began to make preparations for attacking the 
enemy. The naked sword and arrow were borne by faithful 
emissaries throughout the whole length and breadth of the 
counties of Wiltshire, Hampshire, Dorsetshire, and Somerset- 
shire; and in addition to the ancient and imperative summons 
brought by these war messengers, they were intrusted with the 
secret of Alfred's hiding-place, and all were commanded to meet 
him with the strongest military force they could muster, within 




^J^rU' r'/ ^zSa^u<<m/ L?a 






risLd /o&Ut/uri. 



ALFRED THE GREAT. 181 

three days from the time they first received a message. The 
east side of Selwood Forest, or, as the Saxon name signifies, 
The Wood of Willows, was the mustering ground. The spot 
itself was marked by Egbert's stone, said to have been the remains 
of a druidical monument, and celebrated on account of a victory 
which Egbert once won there. This Wood of Willows, in the 
time of Alfred, extended about fifteen miles in length, and six 
in breadth, stretching over the country which now lies from 
beyond Frome to Burham. 

The news of Alfred's being alive, when no tidings had been 
heard of him for nearly six months, spread hope and delight 
throughout all the adjoining counties; and for three days the 
west Saxons rushed in joyfully to the appointed place of meet- 
ing; and never before had the silent shades of Selwood forest 
been startled by such a braying of trumpets and clamour of 
voices as were ever and anon raised to welcome each new comer 
— never had Alfred before received such warm-hearted homage 
as he did during those three days from his subjects, nor had 
king ever before so boldly perilled himself as to enter alone into 
the enemy's encampment. A grand sight must it have been to 
have witnessed the Saxon banner, with the white horse dis- 
played upon its folds, floating above that grey old druidical 
monument — to have seen that assembly of brave warriors in the 
morning sunshine encamped beside the great willow wood, 
which was then waving in all the green luxuriance that adorns 
the willow-tree at the latter end of May. It was a sight w^hich, 
once to have seen, would have made an old man die happy. How 
we long to know how Alfred looked, and what he wore, the 
colour of the horse he rode upon, and what he said to each new- 
comer, and wiiether, during his absence, he looked thinner, or 
older, or more care-worn. Yet all this was seen and heard 
by thousands, although not a record remains to bring him again 
before our " mind's eye." 

When all was ready, Alfred marched his newly-raised forces 
into the enemy's neighbourhood; and though not clearly made 
out, it would almost appear as if he encamped for the night on 
a hill, which fronted the intrenchments of the Danes. Next 
morning, both armies drew up on the plains of Ethandune. 
Behind the forces commanded by Godrun rose Bratton Hill, 
with its strong encampment, and on this the Danes could fall 
back if they were defeated; behind Alfred, there lay, miles 



182 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. 

away, the little island of Athelney, the bridge, the towers, and 
the cowherd's hut; there was nothing, if he looked back, to 
tempt him to retreat, only the broad marshes and the wild wil- 
low wood for him again to fall upon. The sea-king little thought, 
as he looked on, a shade paler than when he sat listening to the 
Saxon gleeman in his tent, that the same minstrel commanded 
the mighty force which was then arrayed before him. By his 
richest armlet of gold, and the shoulder-blade of his choicest 
war-horse, he would have sworn, that had he known of the 
quality of his harper, he would that night have sent him to 
have played in the banquet-hall of Odin. 

The Saxons commenced the attack; for the Danish leader, as 
if something foreboded a defeat, seemed with his army to hug 
the foot of his encampment; — eager, hot, and impetuous, Alfred's 
soldiers rushed upon the enemy in that reckless order w r hich 
often ends in defeat, unless it is the impulsive outbreak of deter- 
mined valour. The Danish ranks were broken for a few mo- 
ments, then rallied again in the hand-to-hand fight as they met 
the foremost Saxons, who had been thrown in amongst them. 
In this mingled melee of uplifted swords, battle-axes, and jave- 
lins, and while the Danes were slowly regaining the ground they 
had lost, a shower of arrows was suddenly poured in amongst them, 
which came full and blinding into their faces, and this was fol- 
lowed by the instant charge of the Saxon spearmen; and to add 
to the panic which had fallen upon the Danes, a cry was raised 
amongst the superstitious soldiers under Alfred, that one of the 
Saxon saints had suddenly appeared amongst them, had seized 
the banner, and borne it into the very thickest of the enemy's 
ranks. From that moment, the Danes began to retreat; there 
was no withstanding an army which fought under the belief that 
they were led on by a supernatural leader. Alfred himself had 
risen up so unexpectedly amongst them, that their enthusiasm, 
which had taken the place of despair, was raised to the 
highest pitch, they were ready to believe that St. Neot, or 
any other saint in the Saxon calendar, had taken their king 
under his special protection, and they cheerfully followed the 
mysterious standard-bearer into the very heart of the Danish 
ranks. They scattered the enemy before them like thistle-down 
before the autumnal blast ; wherever the sea-kings rallied 
for a moment, and made head against the islanders, the Saxon 
storm tore over them, and they vanished like the foam which 



ALFRED THE GREAT. 183 

the wind tears from the billow, and bears howling along as it 
rushes over the waves, which roll away affrighted before its 
wrath. The field was strewn with the dead; never before had 
the Danes met with so sudden and decisive a defeat. 

Godrun retreated with the shattered remnant of his army 
into the intrenchments. Alfred surrounded him in his strong- 
hold; every day which saw the Danish garrison grow weaker 
for want of provisions and water, saw the army of Alfred 
strengthened by the arrival of new forces. The Saxon king 
had not left his enemies a single passage by which they could 
escape, without first fighting their way through the besieging 
army. On the fourteenth day, Godrun capitulated, and humbly 
sued for peace. Generous as he was brave, Alfred readily ac- 
ceded to his request, on such mild terms as must have made the 
invaders ashamed of the cruelties they had formerly inflicted 
upon their conquerors. Alfred well knew the little value that 
the Danes placed either upon their oaths or their hostages; the 
former they had ever broken the moment they escaped; and 
as to the lattter, they left them either to perish or be liberated, 
just as chance directed. They cared not to come back and re- 
deem their pledges when there was plunder before them. Alfred 
knew that England was ample enough for them both; and he 
proposed that if they would abandon their pagan creed, and settle 
down peaceably, to cultivate the soil, instead of the arts of war, 
they should for the future be friends, and he would give them East 
Anglia for an inheritance. Godrun thankfully accepted the noble 
offer, and was baptized. Alfred became answerable for the 
" promises and vows " made by the Danish king at the font. 
The boundaries of the two nations were sworn to in a solemn 
treaty, and Godrun was installed in his new territory, which 
he parcelled out amongst his followers. The immense space of 
ground which Alfred allotted to the Danish king and his soldiers 
consisted of that which is now occupied by the counties of Nor- 
folk, Suffolk, Cambridgeshire, and Essex, together with portions 
of Hertfordshire, Bedfordshire, and even a part of Huntingdon- 
shire. But Alfred did not rest content with merely presenting 
them with such vast territory; he also protected them with the 
same equal laws; he made no distinction in the punishment of a 
crime, whether it was committed by a Dane or a Saxon — each 
was to be alike tried by a jury of twelve men. He made Ethel- 
red, who afterwards married his daughter Ethelfleda, com- 



184 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

mander over the kingdom of Mercia, strengthened his army, and 
thus planted a strong barrier between that kingdom and the 
Danish settlements of Deiri and Bernicia. Cities, and castles, 
and fortifications which had fallen into neglect and ruin, he re- 
paired and rebuilt; he separated the country into hundreds and 
tythings, and established a militia, which were to serve for a 
given number of weeks, then return home again, and their places 
to be supplied by others, each changing about in succession. 
Hitherto, the Saxons had but little to defend; but now the 
country was so well protected, that the soldier came and went 
with a cheerful heart, for he no longer found a pile of blackened 
ashes to mark the spot where his home had once stood. Instead 
of shuddering lest he should see the mangled remains of his wife 
and children, or the Danish fires reddening the sky, he now 
approached the calm comforts of his humble English home, and 
slept securely in the assurance that the eagle eye of Alfred 
was ever sweeping over sea and land, and that ten thousand 
Saxon swords were always ready to be uplifted at his bidding. 
Saxon carols were chaunted in the harvest-fields at the close of 
the summer of 878; and merry voices were heard, where only 
the year before there sounded " the wailing tones of sad lament," 
for a mighty mind was now engrossed with the welfare of the 
people. 

About this time, a large fleet of Danes, under the command of 
the famous sea-king Hastings, arrived in theThames, and, cross- 
ing the country, sought the alliance of Godrun, who with his 
soldiers was following the peaceful occupations of husbandry, and 
the more useful arts of civilized life, when their Northern 
brethren landed. Hastings, finding that he could not win Godrun 
from his allegiance to Alfred, after wintering at Fulham, 
crossed over into Flanders, where he remained for some time at 
Ghent. Meantime, Alfred continued to increase his navy, to 
build ships of a larger size, and of such forms as were better 
adapted to ride out the storm, and to grapple with the enemy on 
their own element. The Saxon and Danish ships were con- 
stantly coming in contact on the ocean, and now victory gene- 
rally declared itself in favour of the former. In 884, another 
Danish fleet invaded England and besieged Eochester, but the 
citizens valiantly defended the place until Alfred with his army 
arrived to relieve them. No sooner did the Saxon king appear, 
than the Danes abandoned their fortress, leaving behind the 



ALFRED THE GREAT. 185 

horses and captives they had brought over from France; and, 
hurrying off with their ships, they again set sail for the coast of 
Gaul. No sooner were they driven out of England, than Alfred 
had to hasten into East Anglia, where a strong force of 
Northmen had arrived, and who seemed determined to force the 
followers of Godrun into rebellion. Many of the Danish settlers 
preferred their old piratical habits to the more peaceful mode of 
life which Alfred had compelled them to adopt, and readily took 
down the battle-axe from the smoke- discoloured beam where it 
had so peacefully rested,* and withdrew the club, bristling with 
iron spikes, the star of the morning, from its hiding-place, to 
join the new comers. The first Danish ships the Saxons at- 
tacked, they either captured or sunk, and the Northmen are 
said to have fought so fiercely, that every soul on board perished. 
Another fleet arrived, and gained some slight advantage over 
the Saxons; but in the end Alfred conquered, and compelled 
the Danes who occupied East Anglia again to settle down to their 
peaceful occupations. 

The most celebrated sea-king that tried his strength with 
Alfred, was Hastings, or Haestan — who again made his appear- 
ance — for the weight of his arm had hitherto fallen upon France 
and Flanders, and the opposite coast. For years this famous 
Vikinger had lived upon the ocean; the poets of the period extol 
him as a monarch whose territories were unbounded, whose 
kingdom no eye could ever take in at a glance; for his home 
was upon the sea, his throne where the tempest rose, and his 
sceptre swayed over realms into which the shark, the sea-horse, 
the monsters of the deep, and the birds of the ocean dare only 
venture. He called his ships together by the sound of an ivory 
horn, which was ever suspended around his neck, and the shrill 
tones of which might be heard for miles inland, and over the 
sea — the Saxons called it the Danish thunder. Whenever that 
blast broke out, the herdsman hurried his cattle into the darkest 
recesses of the forest — the thane barricaded the doors of his 
habitation, and the earl drew up his drawbridge, looked up his 
armour and his attendants, and never ventured to parley with 
either the sea-king or his followers, unless the deep moat was 
between them. For a quarter of a century had he harassed the 
neighbouring nations, living upon the plunder he obtained, until, 

* Thierry's Norman Conquest. 



186 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

weary of leading such an unsettled life, he resolved to become 
a king either over the Danes or the Saxons, and, now that 
Godrun was dead, he doubted not but that, if he could conquer 
Alfred, his own countrymen would gladly accept him for their 
monarch. 

The mighty mind of Alfred was busy meditating upon the 
welfare of his people, and devising plans for their future improve- 
ment, when his study was interrupted by the arrival of this new 
horde of Northmen, and he was compelled to throw aside his 
books and take up the sword. Skilled alike in a knowledge of both 
arts and arms, he readily transformed himself from the statesman 
to the soldier, and moved, with but little preparation, from the 
closet to the camp. A heart less brave than Alfred's would 
have quailed at beholding two hundred and fifty Danish vessels 
darkening the Kentish coast, especially when the forces they 
contained landed safely near the large forest of Andreade, 
that far-stretching land of gloomy trees, which had proved so 
fatal to the Britons, when Ella led on his Saxon hosts to battle 
with the ancient islanders. But Alfred looked on, and remem- 
bered the battle of Ethandune, and his large eye-lids quivered 
not, neither did a motion of fear cloud his firmly-chiselled 
countenance; for he knew that he reigned in the hearts of his 
subjects. He saw the fortress carried which had been erected 
in the marshes of Romney; beheld his enemies ravaging the 
country along the coast, and as far inland as Berkshire; saw 
Hastings enter the mouth of the Thames, with eighty ships, and 
strongly fortify himself near Milton, and then he began to act. 
Wheeling up his army midway, the Saxon king struck in be- 
tween the two divisions of the Danish forces; on his right 
he left them the gloomy forest of Andreade, and the straits of 
Dover to fall back upon; on his left the deep mouth of the 
Thames, which opens upon the coast of Essex, yet even there 
planting a strong force between the shore and their ships. 

Wherever the Danes moved, to the right or to the left, land- 
ward or seaward, the forces of Alfred were upon them. If they 
endeavoured to cross over into Essex, they were driven back 
upon their intrenchments; if they sought to rejoin their brethren 
beside the sea-coast, the West Saxons drove them back. The 
sea-shores and the skirts of the forest were guarded with jealous 
eyes. Wherever a Danish helmet appeared, there was a Saxon 
sword already uplifted. Hastings was awe-struck; he was a 



ALFRED THE GREAT. 187" 

prisoner in his own stronghold ; he lay like a giant, manacled 
with the very fetters his own strength had forged. If he but 
stirred a foot, Saxon blows fell thick and heavily upon it, and 
jarred again upon the other limb, which stood useless, and so 
far apart. Alfred left the Danes who inhabited East Anglia tc 
break loose and ravage at their will, they could but prey upon 
each other. He kept them aloof from the quarry he was hunt* 
ing down. 

Shut up within his camp, and not able to send out a single 
forager with safety, Hastings had at last recourse to stratagem, 
and sent messengers to Alfred, offering to leave the kingdom if he 
would guarantee him a free passage to his ships. To this proposi- 
tion Alfred consented; but no sooner had Hastings embarked, as 
if to fulfil his engagement, than the other division of the army 
rushed across the country, in the rear of Alfred's forces, and 
crossing the Thames where it was fordable, landed in Essex, 
where they met the division assembled under Hastings at Ben- 
fleet. Only a portion, however, passed; for, turning his back 
upon the North Foreland, Alfred pursued the remainder into 
Surrey, and overtook them at Farnhara, where he obtained a 
complete victory; for Alfred had so manoeuvred his forces as to 
place the remnant of the Danish army between himself and the 
Thames, and that too at a spot where it was no longer fordable. 
Thus, those who escaped the Saxon swords plunged into the 
river, and were drowned. Those who could swim, and a small 
portion who were fortunate enough to pass the current on horse- 
back, escaped through Middlesex into Essex, where Alfred pur- 
sued them across the Coin, and finally blockaded them in the 
isle of Mersey. Alfred continued the siege long enough to com- 
pel the Northmen to sue for peace, which he granted them, on 
condition that they at once quitted England. 

But scarcely had Alfred succeeded in defeating the enemy in 
one quarter before a new force sprung up, ready armed, and 
began to make head against him. The Danes of Northumbria 
and East Anglia, who had for a number of years exchanged 
their swords and spears for the sickle and the pruning -hook, 
were no longer able to withstand the temptations which war and 
plunder offered; but uniting their forces together, resolved to 
attack Wessex. The Essex fleet, which, combined with that of 
Hastings, consisted of about a hundred sail, passed without in- 
terruption round the North Foreland, and along the southern 



188 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

coast, as far as Devonshire, where they laid siege to Exeter. 
The other division, consisting of forty vessels that had been 
fitted out in Northumbria, sailed round the north of Scotland, 
and along the western coast, until they reached the Bristol 
channel, where they laid siege to a fortified town on the north 
of the Severn. No sooner did the tidings of this new invasion 
reach the ears of Alfred, than he hastened off to the relief of 
Exeter, where he again conquered the Danes, drove them 
back to their ships, then, crossing over to the Severn, he com- 
pelled the Northumbrian fleet to hasten out of the Bristol 
channel, and once more left the west of England in a state of 
security. 

The movements of Hastings at this period are not very 
clearly laid down. He appears to have crossed the Thames 
again, and once more to have established himself in Essex, at 
South Benfleet. But whether it was here that the camp of the 
Danish king was broken up and plundered, and his wife and 
children taken prisoners, or whether it was when he abandoned 
his encampment in Kent that these disasters befel him, it is 
difficult to understand, so rapid were the movements of both the 
Danes and the Saxons at this period. Alfred, however, bap- 
tized both the sons of Hastings, and loading them with pre- 
sents, sent them back again, together with their mother, in 
safety to the camp of the Danish king. But delicacy and kind- 
ness were alike wasted upon this Danish chief. Having neither 
home nor country which he could call his own, and a vast family 
of rapacious robbers to provide for, he had no alternative but 
either to plunder or starve. He probably would have quitted 
England, but he knew not where to go; and his Danish brethren, 
fearful that he should settle down with his numerous followers, 
and take possession of the land which they had for several years 
so peacefully cultivated, chose what appeared to them the least 
evil, and assisted him to win new territories from the Saxons. 

Leaving a portion of his followers to protect the intrenchment 
in Wessex, Hastings marched at the head of a powerful force 
into Mercia: for he found it difficult to secure supplies in a 
neighbourhood which was so narrowly watched by Alfred. 
Scarcely was his back turned, before the Saxons attacked the 
stronghold he had quitted, and again carried off his wealth, his 
family, and his ships. This was the second time the wife and 
children of Hastings had fallen into the hands of Alfred. His 






^ ■-. 





.Jrtfl&d' ■ /(As/ecc^tm^ 4A& Parnt/y/ oY &Ut*Cvn*&» 



ALFRED THE GREAT. 189 

chiefs intreated of him to put them to death, for Hastings had 
again violated the oath which he had taken to quit the king- 
dom, but the noble nature of Alfred recoiled from so cruel and 
cold-blooded an act, and loading them a second time with pre- 
sents, he sent his own followers to conduct them in safety to the 
camp of the Danish king. Another division of the Danes had 
again attacked Exeter; Alfred hastened with his cavalry across 
the country as before, and compelled them to retreat to their 
ships. The fleet put out to sea, then doubled again towards the 
land, and attacked Chichester; but here they were defeated by 
the citizens and the neighbouring peasantry, and hundreds were 
slain. 

When Alfred returned from Exeter, he found Hastings once 
more intrenched in Essex, with his forces greatly strengthened 
hy the Northumbrian and East Anglian Danes, who had joined 
him in Mercia. A less active king than Alfred would never 
have kept pace with the rapid motions of the Danish monarch. 
Hastings now boldly sailed up the Thames. He then marched 
across to the Severn, where he was followed by the governor 
of Mercia, and attacked by the united forces of the Saxons 
and the men of South Wales. Alfred again advanced to join 
them, and the invaders were hemmed round by the Saxon 
army in the strong fortress of Buttington on the Severn. 
Here Hastings and his followers were compelled to endure 
all the horrors of a sharp siege, for to such straits were the 
Danes driven, that they were under the necessity of killing 
their horses for food. Blockaded alike on the land and on the 
river, and reduced to such a state of famine that numbers 
perished, the Northmen resolved at last to sally out upon the 
Saxons, and either to force a passage through the besieging 
army, or perish in the attempt. They rushed out headlong 
from their intrenchments, with a determined valour, worthy of 
a better cause. Thousands were either slain or drowned; and 
the remnant, with Hastings at their head, again escaped into 
Essex. The loss on the part of the Saxons was also severe; 
since, exhausted as the Danes must have been by siege and famine, 
it would not have been difficult to have cut off their retreat, had 
not the battle been so desperate; for Alfred had to fight with 
an enemy who was compelled either to conquer or perish; who 
had been defeated and driven from nearly every kingdom on 
the continent, and who seemed to pine for a home in a fertile 



190 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

country, where so many of his brethren had taken up their 
abode. The very bread he ate depended upon the chances of 
plunder; he would have been contented to settle down peace- 
ably, as Godrun had beforetime done, but when Alfred saw 
the East Anglian and Northumbrian Danes rendering their aid 
to every new-comer, and eager, as of old, to oppose him, he 
found that a further extension of such lenient policy would soon 
wrest the remainder of the island entirely from his hands, and 
he resolved they should yet feel that a Saxon arm grasped the 
sceptre of England. None of the sea-kings had kept their 
faith like Godrun; he, alone, regarded the oaths which he swore 
on the golden bracelets that were sacred to his gods, and 
remained true to his allegiance. 

The army of Hastings was soon recruited again from the 
former resources, and early in the spring he once more set out 
into the midland counties, plundering along his march until he 
reached Chester, where he again threw up a strong intrench- 
ment. Alfred, at the head of his army, was soon in pursuit of 
the dangerous sea-king, and when he found how strongly he had 
fortified himself at Chester, the Saxon monarch had recourse to 
his old plan of starving out the garrison; and to effect this purpose 
he gathered up all the cattle in the neighbourhood, and all the 
corn in the district for miles around. Hastings and his fol- 
lowers had too bitter a remembrance of the famine they had 
endured at Buttington, to run another risk of suffering such 
privation, while there yet remained a chance of escape; so they 
once more forced their way through the Saxon army, rushed 
into North Wales, earned off from thence what booty they 
could, and recreated into East Anglia through such counties as 
were inhabited by the Danes, carefully avoiding every spot which 
Alfred and his army occupied. The county of Essex seems 
always to have been the favourite rallying point of Hastings, 
and here he appears to have settled dowm amongst his coun- 
trymen in the autumn of 896; to protect his ships during 
the winter, he built a fortress on the river Lea, which divides 
Middlesex from Essex, and there drew up his fleet within a 
distance of twenty miles from London. In this neighbourhood 
he appears to have reposed in safety until the following summer, 
when London poured forth its troops to attack the Danish 
fortress; but so strongly had Hastings intrenched himself, that 



ALFRED THE GREAT. 191 

all the military array of Middlesex was unable to penetrate the 
encampment of the sea-king. 

At the close of summer, Alfred considered it necessary to be 
in the neighbourhood of the metropolis, to protect his subjects 
from the attacks of the Danes while they gathered in their 
harvest. Driving in foragers, attacking outposts, and checking 
attempted sallies, had rendered Alfred as familiar with the 
construction of the invaders' fortresses as they were themselves; 
and one day while meditating how he could most advantageously 
strike a decisive blow, and compel the enemy to abandon their 
stronghold, he hit upon the daring plan of draining the river 
Lea, and leaving the whole of the Danish fleet aground. To 
accomplish this, he ordered his soldiers to dig three new 
channels below the level of the river, and to raise two for- 
tresses on either side the Lea to protect their operations. He 
drew off the waters into a tributary stream which emptied itself 
into the Thames, so that, as an old writer says, " where a ship 
might sail in time afore past, then a little boat might scarcely 
row." In the night, Hastings again broke through the toils 
with which the inventive genius of Alfred had encompassed 
him; and abandoning his ships, which were now useless, he con- 
trived to send off the wives and children of his followers into 
East Anglia, to the care of his countrymen; he thus escaped 
from Alfred, and reached Bridgenorth, near the Severn, where 
he again intrenched himself. Although, as usual, he was quickly 
followed by the Saxon king, yet so strong was the military posi- 
tion which the Danes occupied, that with the exception of a 
slight skirmish or two, they were allowed to pass the winter 
unmolested. Many of the Danish vessels which Hastings had 
left behind were again set afloat, and conducted with great 
triumph into the Thames. The remainder were burnt and 
destroyed. 

Harassed and defeated on every hand, the spirit of Hastings 
at last bowed down before the superior genius of Alfred; and as 
dissensions already began to break out in the Danish camp, the 
brave but unfortunate sea-king fitted up his shattered fleet as he 
best could, and in the spring of 897 departed for France, where 
some small portion of territory was allotted to him by the king, and 
there he passed the remainder of his days. A few naval en- 
gagements of but little note took place after the departure of Hast- 



192 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

ings, in all of which the Saxons were victorious; and towards the 
close of his reign Alfred treated these sea-pirates with great 
severity, and on one occasion ordered several of them to be exe- 
cuted. These, however, appear to have belonged to either 
Northumbria or East Anglia, — and all such had sworn allegiance 
to Alfred. Before the close of his reign, the Saxon fleet con- 
sisted of above a hundred strongly-built and well-rigged 
vessels, many of these were manned by Frieslanders, and as 
they were placed in such situations as the Danes had generally 
selected for their landing-places, they silently overawed and 
checked the inroads of the enemy, as they went prowling about 
" like guardian giants along the coast." This great king did 
not survive the departure of Hastings above three years. He 
died on the 26th of October, in the year 900, or 901. Hitherto 
we have been compelled to confine ourselves to the military 
achievements of this celebrated monarch. A summary of his great 
intellectual attainments, which a volume would scarcely suffice 
to contain, we shall attempt to crowd within the brief space of 
another chapter 



193 
CHAPTER XXIII. 

CHARACTER OF ALFRED THE GREAT. 

" Hear him but reason on divinity, 
And, all-admiring, with an inward wish, 
You would desire the king were made a prelate ; 
Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs, 
You would say — it hath been all-in-all his study: 
List his discourse of war, and you shall hear 
A fearful battle rendered you in music." 

Shakspeke, 

We have seen the shadow of this great king pass, through the 
clouds of sorrow and suffering, into the glory and immortality 
which still shed their lustre around his memory, after the dark- 
ness of nearly a thousand winters has gathered and passed 
over his grave. Even the gloomy gates of death could not ex- 
tinguish, in the volumed blackness they enclose, the trailing 
splendour which accompanied his setting, without leaving behind 
a summer twilight, over a land where before there was nothing 
but darkness to mark the departing day. Upon a sky dim, 
and unsprinkled with the golden letters of light, Alfred first rose, 
the evening star of English history. From his first appearance 
a brightness marked his course; even in the morning of life, he 
"flamed upon the forehead of the sky." Instead of the dull, 
cold, leaden grey, which announced the appearance of other 
kings, his crowned head broke the stormy rack, m a true splendour 
that befitted such majesty, and though dimmed for awhile, every 
observant eye could see that it was the sun which hung behind 
the clouds. 

In childhood, long before his step -mother, Judith, had taught 
him to read, his chief delight was in committing to memory the 
poems which the Saxon bards chaunted in his father's court; and 
who can doubt but that many a wandering minstrel descended 
from the ancient Cymry, struck his harp within the Saxon 
halls, and made the boyish heart of Alfred thrill again, as he 
heard the praises of those early British heroes sung, whose bare 
breasts and sharp swords were the bold bulwarks that so long 
withstood the mailed legions which the haughty emperor of 
Rome had sent, swarming over our own island shores. In this 

o 



194 HISTORY OF ENGLAND, 

rude school was Alfred first taught that the names of the good, 
the great, and the brave can never die; that valour and virtue 
were immortal; and he resolved to emulate the deeds of those 
whose memories time can never obliterate; by whose names we 
number the footsteps of eternity, when marble and monumental 
brass have crumbled into dust. It was at the Castaly of the 
Muses, w T hich then but trickled from a rude, grey Saxon font, 
where Alfred first drank in the draught that gave him immor- 
tality. Eager for knowledge, he looked around in vain for any 
one to instruct him; he had not a clergyman about him who 
could translate the prayers he read in Latin, into Saxon; until 
poor old Asser came from Wales, he could not find in his whole 
court a scholar equal to himself. His nobles could hunt and 
fight; his brothers could do no more: they lived and died, and 
their names would never have been remembered had they not 
chanced to have been kings. The mind of Alfred was fashioned 
in another mould; accident had made him a king, and he re- 
solved to become a man, to think and act worthy of a being who 
bore on his brow God's image — to be something more than the 
mere heir to a hollow crown and the lands of Wessex; so he 
threw aside his sword, which he knew a thousand arms could 
wield as well as his own, and took up his pen. He was the first 
Saxon king who attempted to conquer his enemies without 
killing them — who offered them bread instead of the sword. He 
was much wiser than many legislators in our own enlightened 
times. He gave Godwin and his Danes land and seed, bade them 
work, and live honestly and peacefully; they had felt the weight 
of his arm before-time, and, for a long period after, they disturbed 
not his study again. What benefit was it to Alfred to whiten with 
human bones a land which he knew it would be better to cultivate? 
— there was room enough for them all, so he sat down again to 
enrich his own mind. We can readily imagine that he never took 
up his sword without a feeling of reluctance — that he thought a 
man could not be worse employed than in slaying his fellow men. 
Alfred was England's earliest reformer. When his nobles found 
that he had determined to find them no more fighting, they took 
to reading and writing, for time hung heavily upon their hands. 
He then allowed them to share in his councils, and they began 
to make laws for the living, instead of slaying, and then fixing a 
price to be paid to the kindred of the dead for the murder they 
had committed. 



CHARACTER OF ALFRED THE GREAT. 195 

A lingering and painful disease, which had for years baffled 
the skill of all his physicians — the constant inroads of the 
northmen, who were ever keeping the country in a state of 
alarm — a dearth of kindred spirits to cheer him in his intel- 
lectual labours — prevented not the persevering king from strug- 
gling onward, in his toilsome journey, in search of knowledge 
and truth. Bede, with the exception of a single poem, had com- 
posed all his works in Latin; and, with scarcely an exception, 
there was no production of any merit that Alfred could obtain, 
at that period, but what was written in the same language; 
and when he looked round amongst all the thousands he ruled 
over, not one could be found, until Asser appeared, who was 
capable of instructing him, or who could translate into the 
Saxon tongue the knowledge for which he thirsted. He 
sent in quest of literary men to Home, to France, to Ireland; 
wherever they could be found, he despatched messengers with 
presents to intreat and tempt them to visit his court. When 
they arrived, he made them equals and friends — he promoted 
them to the highest offices in his government — he valued them 
higher than all his treasures of gold and silver — by day and 
night they were his inseparable companions. He listened to 
the passages they translated, stopped them from time to time, 
and made notes of the most striking thoughts, and, in an after 
day, in numerous instances, he extended the crude ideas of the 
ancient writers, and threw in a thousand beautiful illustrations 
of his own, and such as were never dreamed of by the original 
authors; they reflect his own thoughts and feelings; and while 
we peruse them we know that we are drinking in the wisdom 
of Alfred. In his translation of Orosius he made a great 
portion of the geography and history of the world, as it was 
then understood, familiar to his countrymen; by his translation 
of Bede he gave them an insight into the records of their own 
land, and showed his nobles how indifferently their predecessors 
had conducted the government. By his Boethius he instilled into 
their minds many moral axioms, imparted to them his own 
thoughts and feelings, and slowly raised them to that high intel- 
lectual station to which he had, by his own exertions, attained; 
for though he still ever soared high above them, yet there were 
eminences up which they never could have climbed unless by 
his aid. He found his nobles but little better than the northern 
barbarians, and he left them wise and thinking men. He made 

o2 



196 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. 

a green and flowery place of what had been before but a wide 
and weedy wilderness. He divided his attendants into three 
bodies, and when one party had served him a month, they re- 
turned home, and were succeeded by another; for it was not in 
the nature of Alfred to compel any of his attendants to neglect 
their own private affairs while serving him. By this means he 
but claimed their services during four months in the year, the 
remainder of the time they were allowed to dedicate to their 
own domestic matters. He divided his income into separate 
portions, appropriating each part to a particular purpose — first, 
he allotted a portion to his warriors and attendants; the next 
allotment was expended in building, in the improvement of 
which he collected many eminent architects from different 
nations; the third he expended in the relief of foreigners; no 
matter from what country they came, they left not the court of 
Alfred empty-handed: the remainder of his revenue was dedi- 
cated to religious purposes, to the support of the monasteries 
he had built, the schools he had erected, and of the various 
churches throughout the whole of the dominions. Out of 
this division the larger portion was religiously dedicated to the 
relief of the poor. Not only his treasures, but his time, was 
also equally divided; he but allowed one-third for rest and 
retirement, and within it scrupulously included the whole that 
he thought necessary to be consumed in partaking of his meals. 
The second eight hours he devoted wholly to the affairs of his 
kingdom, to the meeting of his council, to the assembling of his 
witena-gemot, audiences, plans of protection for the repelling of 
invasions, and for the better working of the great machinery which 
he had set in motion to better the condition of his subjects and 
weaken the power of his enemies. The remaining third of his 
time^ he appropriated to study and his religious duties. It was in 
this division, doubtless the happiest of all, that Asser and Grimbald 
read and translated while he listened, and in the little note-book 
which Asser had made him, he put down such thoughts as made 
the greatest impression on his mind. Alfred had neither clock 
nor chronometer with which to measure out the hours, only the 
sun and moving shadow by which he could mete out time, and 
they could neither guide him on the dull, cloudy day, nor the 
dark night. To overcome this difficulty, and mark the divisions 
of the twenty-four hours, he had wax candles made, twelve 
inches in length, each of which was marked at equal distances, 



CHARACTER OF ALFRED THE GREAT. 197 

and although the time taken up in replacing and re-lighting them 
would scarcely serve to mark accurately the lapse of minutes, yet 
they were so equally made, that six of them, with but little varia- 
tion, used in succession, lasted out the twenty-four hours. To 
guard against the casualties of winds and draughts, he inclosed his 
candles in thin, white, transparent horn, and this result led to 
the invention of lanterns; and thus he measured time, which to 
him was the most valuable of all earthly treasures, for he con- 
sidered his life as a trust held for the benefit of his people; and 
the knowledge which he himself accumulated he felt it a sacred 
duty to impart to others. From what was then considered the 
remotest corners of the earth, he despatched emissaries to gather 
information; he sent an embassy to India, and had messengers 
continually passing to and from Rome. The Danes, whom he 
had permitted to settle down peaceably in his dominions, he 
placed upon the same footing as the Saxons, giving to them equal 
laws, and punishing the criminals of both nations with the same 
impartial rigour, which many historians have considered to be 
somewhat too severe. Justice was then but little understood; 
and when the judges came to such decisions as Alfred considered 
unfair to the party injured, he occupied the tribunal, and had 
the matter brought before him, and according to his own judg- 
ment decided the case. He caused one of his own judges, named 
Cad wine, to be hanged, for having condemned a man to death 
without the consent of the whole jury. Freberne he also ordered 
to be executed, for sentencing one Harpin to suffer death, when 
the jury were undecided in their verdict; for when there was 
a doubt, Alfred concluded it was but just to save the accused. 
He would neither permit the jury to return an unjust verdict, 
nor the judge to influence their decision; but where there was 
doubt and difficulty to contend against, he brought the whole 
weight of his own clear, unbiassed intellect to bear upon the 
subject. 

Without breaking down the warlike spirit of the people, he 
by a salutary law checked the thirst of personal revenge, per- 
mitting no man to slay his enemy in secret, not even if he knew 
that that enemy was seated at home beside his own hearth, he 
was not allowed to fight with him until he had publicly de- 
manded redress. If the body of a murdered man was found, 
the penalty, which, considering the value of money in those 
times, was heavy, fell upon the whole hundred or tything in 



198 HISTORY OF ENGLAND, 

which the dead body was discovered. By this means, the in- 
nocent had the powerful motive of self-interest to induce them 
to give up the murderer. Rude and primitive as such a system 
may at first appear, these laws were well adapted to the spirit 
of the barbarous age in which he lived, when a pagan Dane con- 
sidered it a meritorious work to slay a Saxon Christian, and the 
latter thought that he was doing Heaven service when he sent the 
spolier of its monasteries, and the slayer of its priests, to revel in 
the halls of the blood-stained gods he worshipped. Elders were 
appointed over each hundred, and were answerable for the 
conduct of all who belonged to them. If a crime was com- 
mitted, the roll was called over, and suspicion naturally fell 
upon the missing man who had fled. No other hundred could 
register his name until he had dwelt a given time amongst them; 
and through this strict system of espionage, pardonable only in 
such turbulent times, the land, as it were, was engirded with a 
continuous chain, not a link of which could be broken without 
the gap becoming visible. Alfred not only introduced the deca- 
logue into his laws, but so adapted the Mosaic code to the habits 
of the age in which he lived, as to render it as effective amongst 
the Anglo-Saxons as it had been with the Israelites of old. His 
witena-gemot, or assembly of nobles, or parliament, or by 
whatever name we choose to designate the council of the land, 
was called upon to give its consent to these enactments, be- 
fore they were put into operation, and such clauses as it ob- 
jected to, Alfred blotted out from his Dom-boc. He first drew 
the bold outline of our present mode of government; and limned 
with his hand, though rudely, the grand form of our glorious 
constitution. He was proverbially known amongst his subjects 
by the title of the w Truth-teller;" and it was a saying during 
his reign, that golden bracelets might be hung upon the land- 
marks beside the common highways without a fear of their 
removal, such a vigorous watch did the law keep. 

In the character of Alfred was embodied all the elements 
which the poet, the dramatist, and the novelist attempt to throw 
around their most perfect ideas of a hero. He was a warrior, 
a statesman, and a scholar, and as perfect in each of these ca- 
pacities as if he had spent his whole life in the battle-field, had 
dedicated his days and nights to law and politics, or been only 
a fond dreamer amongst books in the flowery fields of literature. 
He would have taken the lead in any age as the commander of 



CHARACTER OF ALFRED THE GREAT. 199 

an army; have either risen to the dignity of a chancellor or a 
premier in civil government, or have stood first in the high and 
ambitious rank of authorship. In him were beautifully blended 
courage and tenderness, perseverance and patience; justice 
which would have been stern, but for the softening quality of 
mercy, high-mindedness, and humbleness, and, above all, a uni- 
versal love for his fellow men, not disfigured by the weak par- 
tiality of unworthy favouritism. He found England in a state 
of despondency, raised and cheered her, and then elevated her 
to a much higher station than that from which she had fallen. 
But for Alfred the Great, England would have been a desert, 
and never have recovered from the destructive fires and deso- 
lating ravages of the Danes. His name will be revered until 
time shall be no more. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

EDWARD THE ELDER. 

"Awake remembrance of these valiant dead, 
And with your puissant arm renew their feats; 
You are their heir, you sit upon their throne; 
The blood and courage that renowned them 

Runs in your veins. 

All do expect that you should rouse yourself, 

As did the former lions of your blood." — Shakspere. 

Edward the Elder, in the year 901, was, by the unanimous 
consent of the Saxon nobles, elected king of Wessex. He had 
already distinguished himself for his valour, as he fought by the 
side of his father Alfred against Hastings. Although he was 
the son of Alfred, and elected by the consent of the whole witena- 
gemot, his cousin Ethelwold laid claim to the crown, and took 
possession of Wimburn, which he vowed death alone should 
compel him to give up. No sooner, however, did Edward ap- 
pear before the gates of the town with his army, than Ethelwold 
fled; and escaping by night, reached Northumbria, where he 
was gladly received by the Danes, who, doubtless, thinking that 
they should have a better claim to the land of England, if a 



200 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

Saxon prince reigned over them, chose him for their sovereign, 
and at York he was appointed head monarch over all the sea- 
kings and their chiefs. With the Saxon king at their head, the 
Danes were not long before they aspired to the sovereignty of 
the whole island. But Ethelwold could not remain long amongst 
his subjects without partaking of their piratical habits, so he set 
up sea-king; and finding that the ocean yielded but a poor har- 
vest, he visited the coast of France, and, either by promises or 
presents, mustered such a force as enabled him to man a consi- 
derable fleet, with which he returned to England and ravaged 
Mercia. As he landed in Essex, the East Anglian Danes 
readily joined him. Edward led his army into Lincolnshire in 
pursuit of Ethelwold, and overtook him a little below Gains- 
borough. The battle appears to have been fought on a small 
island, still called Axeholme, which is situated beside the river 
Trent, and the inhabitants of which are still called " The men 
of the Isle." Edward, having ravaged the neighbourhood 
around the isle of Axeholme, ordered his forces to retreat slowly, 
but on no account to separate. This order the Kentish troops 
neglected to obey, and either took a different route from the 
rest of the army, or remained behind to plunder, when Ethel- 
wold, at the head of a superior force, rushed upon them, and 
they were defeated. Although it appears to have been more of 
a skirmish than a pitched battle, victory was purchased, on 
the part of the Danes, by the death of Ethelwold, and England 
then enjoyed a two years' peace. 

After this brief interval, war again broke out. Edward, at 
the head of his Saxons and Mercians, over-ran and plundered 
Northumbria. In the following spring, the Danes retaliated, 
and attacked Mercia on each side of the river Trent. While 
Edward was busy on the south-eastern coast, repairing and col- 
lecting together his ships, a rumour circulated amongst the 
Danes that he had gone over to the opposite shore with his fleet. 
Misguided by these tidings, the Danish army passed across the 
country in the direction of the Severn, plundering every place 
they approached, and moving about in that irregular manner 
which showed that they were not apprehensive of any at- 
tack. Great was their surprise when they saw a powerful 
army approaching them; they discovered not the danger until it 
was too late to fly from it, for Edward was upon them, and there 
was no alternative but to fight. The battle took place at Wo- 



EDWARD THE ELDEB. 201 

densfield, and thousands of the Danes were slain, for, beside 
many earls and chiefs, they left two of their kings dead upon 
the field. The result of this battle established the power of 
Edward, and I insured the safety of the Saxon kingdom. Like 
Ins lather Alfred, he trusted not to the chances of war alone for 
security, but protected his frontiers by a line of strong fortresses, 
and placed a powerful guard over such weak points as had been 
most open to the invasion of the enemy. He filled these sarri- 
sons with chosen soldiers, who, united with the provincials or 
militia which Alfred had established, rushed out upon the Danes 
the moment they approached, without either awaiting the com- 
mand of the king or of his earls, and by such watchful energy 
they ever kept the enemy in subjection. Inheriting her father's 
Dravei-y, iithelfleda, who was now a widow, acted in concert 
with her brother Edward, and made her name a terror to the 
Danes on the frontiers of Mercia, so that the governorship which 
had been intrusted to her husband Ethelred lost none of its 
power in her hands. 

inl^fi^ 1 ' 63368 which J E , dward thus reared, in time, became 

culttatd fiT ; / r T d t fe n Sprun ° "P human habitations and 
cultivated fields, for the soldiers had their allotted hours of duty 
and recreation, and when not employed in keeping a watch over 
the enemy they followed the more peaceful occupations of api- 
culture. Many of these fortifications were placed in command, 
ing situations; of such were Wigmore in Herefordshire; Bridg- 
north and Cherbury in Shropshire ; in Cheshire, Edesoury; fn 

to ~ th^W U° rdand T edeSbOT0U S h; ^l admirably adapted 
1^! a ■ruf S \ Up .° n the western boundaries; while Run- 
corne and Thelwall in Cheshire, and BakeweU in Derby, 
Zl<£° F ot « ctt «e northern frontier of the Saxon kingdoS 
nl!»Tw rS, -, Man , Che J to ' Tamworth, Leicester, Not- 
tingham, and Warwick also formed strong barriers of defence 

entrllT ° n ° f ^ ercia > whiIe other P'aces guarded the 

^SLT^T T hich the Danes had ne ™r faiI ^ 
land l£Z ■ lve 4 S „° f ' J , wh . en the ? P° ure<i tQ eir forces over the 
„ m ;! er in Alfred's time had the Saxon states presented 

Edi^ T P ^ etraWe fr ° nta S e as the y did <*™«S the reign of 
SaZnrini \ g ° Vern f shipof his sister Ethelfleda; fo? the 
1177 heSlta , ted not t0 heai1 the forc es intrusted to her 
i ? n anThe ST'" * h \ enem y a PPeared : since she had shared 
in all the hardships of those stormy times, and proved herself a 



202 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

worthy daughter of Alfred. Edward was not long before he was 
again compelled to take up arms against the northmen, who, 
after having entered the Severn and ravaged North Wales, 
carried their devastation into Herefordshire. But the military 
force established in the fortresses of Hereford and Gloucester, 
joined by the neighbouring inhabitants, rushed upon the Danes, 
and compelled them to seek shelter in an adjacent wood. They 
soon made head again; but Edward, who had by this time 
drawn his army together, kept so narrow a watch over them, 
that they despaired of escaping, and were fearful of again mea- 
suring their strength with the Saxons. In the night they sepa- 
rated into two divisions and began to retreat. Edward divided 
his army, pursued and defeated them. Such as escaped the 
slaughter, fled into Wales, where they for a short time found 
shelter, and at last sailed over into Ireland. But it is wearisome 
to run over such a catalogue of combats — of fortresses attacked 
and defended — of the victors of to-day who were vanquished 
on the morrow — of battles fought under commanders whose 
names have many ages ago perished — of castles besieged, the 
very sites of which are now unknown, and over whose ruins a 
thousand harvests have probably been reaped. Suffice it, that 
Edward so far secured his dominions, that the East Anglian 
Danes chose him for their " lord and patron " — that the Welsh 
princes acknowledged and submitted to his power, while the 
king of the Scots addressed him by the title of " father and 
lord," and the Danes of Northumbria looked up to him as their 
supreme sovereign. Such acknowledgments as these are proofs 
that he left the Saxon monarchy established on a solid founda- 
tion, and that he had not neglected the wise plans which his 
father had drawn out for the better security of his kingdom. 

Edward died in Berkshire, about 924, after having reigned for 
nearly a quarter of a century, and though he had several sons and 
daughters both by his first and second wife, he appointed by his 
will his illegitimate son, Athelstan, as his successor to the throne. 
The Saxon nobles confirmed his choice. Edward had never to 
contend with such difficulties as beset his father, yet, had he not 
possessed a great share of the same military talent, the fabric 
which Alfred had erected might, if less skilfully defended, have 
again been overthrown. His character would have stood out 
more boldly on the page of history, had it not been placed by the 
side of Alfred the Great. 



203 
CHAPTER XXV. 

THE REIGN OF ATHELSTAN. 

" Clamour was on the earth. 
They darted from their hands many a stout spear; 
The sharpened arrows flew — the bows were busy — • 
The buckler's received the weapon's point. 
Bitter was the fight — warriors fell on either side. 
The youths lay slain." 

Death of Bbyhtnoth, 991. 

Although Athelstan was the illegitimate son of Edward the 
Elder, and his mother, a woman of surpassing beauty, only 
the daughter of a humble shepherd, yet he was in his thirtieth 
year elected to the crown, by the consent of the whole witena- 
gemot, or Saxon parliament, in accordance with the will left by 
his father. While but a child, his beauty and gentle manners 
had interested his grandfather Alfred, and the great king, as if 
foreseeing the splendid station to which the future monarch 
would one day rise, had with his own hand invested the boy 
with the honours of knighthood; had doubtless many a time 
placed him upon his own knee, and as he sat in childish pomp, 
in his purple garment, jewelled belt, and with his Saxon sword, 
buried in its golden sheath, dangling by his side, had in- 
stilled into his youthful mind those precepts which had guided 
his own career, and shown him how he should think and act 
when he became king. When Alfred died, his daughter Ethel- 
fleda took Athelstan with her into Mercia, and joined with her 
husband Ethelred in watching narrowly over his education; so 
that when he was called upon to ascend the throne of Wessex, 
there could be but few found in that day whose scholastic and 
military attainments excelled those of Athelstan. 

At the time of Athelstan's accession, Sigtryg, a grandson of 
Ragnar Lodbrog's, reigned over a portion of JNorthumbria, and 
although, like all the rest of the sea-kings, he was a bold and 
fearless pirate, and still worse, was guilty of the murder of his 
own brother, yet Athelstan gave to him his own sister in 
marriage, and the nuptials of the Danish king and the Saxon 
princess were celebrated with all the barbaric pomp of the 
period at Tamworth. What motive Athelstan had for estab- 



204 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. 

lishing this union, we are at a loss to divine. It has been 
attributed to fear — a wish to conciliate a powerful enemy. This 
could not be the case: for we find the Saxon king preparing to 
invade his dominions a few months after he had married his 
sister. The conditions of the marriage were that Sigtryg 
should renounce his idolatry, and become a Christian — propo- 
sitions which he swore to accede to by his own heathen oath on 
the bracelets; and, with his heart still clinging to the altars of 
Odin, he was baptized and married. He soon grew weary of 
his new wife and his new religion, put on his golden armlets 
again, and, solemnly swearing by his heathen gods, renounced 
them both : for, reigning over a land inhabited solely by un- 
believing Danes, we can scarcely marvel at such an act when 
performed by a pagan, who understood not the attributes of 
the true God. Athelstan lost no time in preparing to resent 
the insult offered to his religion and to his sister, but began at 
once to march his forces towards Northumbria. Eager, how- 
ever, as he had been to arm, when he reached the Danish 
dominions he found that death had stepped in before him; for 
Sigtryg, after renouncing both his Christian and his heathen 
creed, had died, and the sons whom he had had by a former 
wife fled at the approach of Athelstan. Anlaf, in his ship, 
escaped to Ireland; and Godifrid sought shelter and protection 
under Constantine, the king of the Scots. To the latter, 
Athelstan sent messengers, demanding of him to deliver up 
the Danish prince. Constantine prepared to obey the peremp- 
tory summons, but during the journey Godifrid escaped. After 
enduring many perils both by sea and land, he at last fell into 
the hands of Athelstan, whose anger had by that time sub- 
sided, for he received the poor fugitive courteously, and 
treated him kindly, and gave him a warm welcome to his 
own court. But four days of princely ease in a Saxon palace 
were quite enough for the great grandson of the stormy old sea- 
king, Ragnar Lodbrog, and on the fifth he fled, seized a ship, 
and set up pirate, as his forefathers had formerly done; for "he 
was," says one of the old chroniclers, " as incapable as a fish 
of living out of water." Although Athelstan added Northum- 
bria to his dominions, the Danes were resolved not to give up 
a country of which they had so long retained possession with- 
out a struggle. Many a Vikingr still existed, who claimed kin- 
dred with the grandsons of Ragnar Lodbrog; and tidings soon 



THE REIGN OF ATHELSTAN. 205 

reached the rocky coast of Norway, that the Saxon king had 
laid claim to the Anglo-Danish territories, over which their 
brethren had ruled as kings; and though the ivory horn of Hast- 
ings no longer summoned their sea-horses from the creeks and 
harbours in w r hich they were stabled, they soon again began 
to ride over the road of the swans, and to climb the stormy 
waves of the Baltic in their armed ships. Such formidable pre- 
parations were made for the invasion as threatened at last to 
overwhelm for ever the Saxon monarchy. The rumour of such 
a victory rang through England, and arrested the gaze of the 
neighbouring nations. We will briefly glance at the cause of 
this great commotion. 

It appears that Constantine had violated the treaty which he 
had made with Athelstan, and that the latter ravaged the 
Scottish dominions both by sea and land, carrying his army 
among the Picts and Scots, and the ancient Cymry, who in- 
habited the valley of the Clyde, and his ships as far north as 
Caithness. Unable to compete with the Saxon forces, Con- 
stantine began to look abroad for assistance, and formed a 
league with Anlaf, who, as we have before stated, had escaped 
to Ireland, w r here he was made king over some little state. He, 
it will be borne in mind, had fled from Northumbria at the ap- 
proach of Athelstan, and doubtless considered that he had as 
just a claim to the throne of Northumbria as Athelstan had to 
that of Wessex. The Welsh princes, who, still settled down as 
petty sovereigns, had felt the weight of the strong arm of Athel- 
stan, and readily confederated with Constantine and Anlaf — 
the Danes of Northumbria, East Anglia, and Cumbria, had so 
long been settlers in the country, that self-defence alone com- 
pelled them to league themselves against a king who threatened 
ere long to reduce the whole of Dane-land to his sway. Added 
to these, were the ships already fitting out in Norway, or breast- 
ing the billows of the Baltic. Thus were arrayed against 
Athelstan and his handful of Saxons, the whole forces of Scot- 
land — the Irish fleet commanded by Anlaf — the remnant of the 
ancient Britons — the Danes of East- Anglia and Northumbria 
■—together with the legions who were hourly pouring in from 
Norway and the Baltic — a force formidable enough to have 
blanched the cheek of the great Alfred himself, had he lived to 
have looked upon it. 

Athelstan saw the storm as it gathered about him, and know- 



206 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. 

ing that it would before long break over him, he prepared him- 
self like a man who is resolved to buffet it — who is determined 
to do his best to weather the tempest, whatever may betide. 
He resolved not to sit listlessly down with folded arms to be 
drenched by the overwhelming torrent, if safety could be won 
by hard struggling. He offered high rewards to every war- 
rior who chose to fight in his cause; and Thorolf and Egil, two 
of those restless sea-pirates who cared not whether they plun- 
dered or slew for themselves or others, so long as it brought in 
wealth, arrived with three hundred followers, and entered the 
service of Athelstan. Another celebrated chief, named Rollo, 
also sent him assistance from Normandy. The war was com- 
menced by Anlaf, who sailed into the Humber with a large fleet 
which consisted of about six hundred ships, Avhile the forces 
under his command numbered at least forty thousand men. 
They overpowered the Saxon army which Athelstan had placed 
on the edge of the Deira and the Northern frontier of Mercia; 
and the remnant fled to the head-quarters occupied by the Saxon 
king. Anlaf is said to have visited Athelstan's camp, disguised 
in the character of a minstrel, as Alfred himself had before time 
done, when he reconnoitred the stronghold of Godrun. Although 
he escaped, he was discovered, and Athelstan was warned to 
remove his tent, by which means his life was saved, as a night 
attack was made upon the camp, and the bishop of Sherbourne, 
who had exchanged his mitre for a helmet, and who soon after 
arrived with his soldiers, was stationed in the quarter which 
the king had so recently quitted, and fell a victim, instead of 
Athelstan, for whose destruction the attack was planned. After 
this night combat, in which the enemy proved victorious, Athel- 
stan knew that there was no time to be lost, and therefore began 
to arrange the forces for the battle, which was to decide his fate. 
Anlaf also drew up his large army in readiness for the approach- 
ing affray. The Saxon king placed his boldest troops at the 
front of the battle; leaving them to the command of Egil, who, 
though only a hired chieftain, was a brave and honourable sol- 
dier. To Thorolf he entrusted the followers whom he had been 
accustomed to lead, mingling with them a few of his own Saxon 
soldiers, who appear to have been steadier, and better able to 
repel the attacks of the Irish who had come over with Anlaf, 
and were in the habit of moving quickly from place to 
place, and by their changes disarranging the order of battle. 



THE REIGN OF ATHELSTAN. 207 

Over the Mercian warriors, and the brave English hearts which 
London had poured forth, he placed Turketul, the chancellor, 
and bade him, when the war-cry was sounded, to charge head- 
long upon Constantine, and the Scots whom he commanded. 
Athelstan himself headed the West Saxons, placing them oppo- 
site to the point occupied by Anlaf, as if fearful of trusting any 
other than himself in the most dangerous post. Anlaf altered 
not his position, but stood front to front with his forces, drawn 
up opposite the Saxon monarch. 

Behind the right wing of the army of Anlaf there stretched 
a vast wood; facing, and nearly out-flanking it, were drawn up 
the soldiers Thorolf commanded; who, eager as a hawk to rush 
upon the quarry, was the first to plunge headlong upon the enemy, 
and in a moment he was in the very thickest of the ranks, having 
far outstripped all, but a few of the foremost of his companions. 
Adils, a British prince, who fought under the banner of Anlaf, 
wheeled his Welsh forces round, and severed Thorolf and his 
friends from the rest of their followers, and slew them. Egil 
saw the standard of Thorolf surrounded by the enemy, beheld 
it rocking and reeling above the heads of the combatants as it 
was borne towards the wood, and conscious that his brave com- 
panion in arms had not betrayed his trust; that the banner of 
Thorolf was never seen to retreat whilst its leader was alive; 
he, with his shield slung behind his back, and wielding his huge 
claymore, rushed on like a dreaded thunderbolt to revenge his 
death. The forces which Athelstan trusted to his command 
deserted him not; they hewed their way through the enemy's 
ranks, they pursued them into the wood, and Adils fell in the 
fight, for the Welsh wing, which occupied the front of the forest, 
was defeated with terrible slaughter. 

Meantime, in the centre of the plain, the combat raged with 
unabated fury; arrows, darts, and javelins, were abandoned; for 
it was now the close hand to hand contest, when blows were 
dealt at arm's length with the sword, and the battle-axe, and the 
club, bristling with sharp steel spikes, which bit through, or 
crushed the heaviest helmet; — when the huge two-handed clay- 
more was swung with giant arms, and men fell before it like 
grass before the scythe of the mower in a summer field; — when 
blood flowed and none heeded it, but the combatant placed his 
foot upon the dead that the blow might fall with heavier force; 
— when vassal and chief rolled over together; — when horse and 



208 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

rider fell, yet scarcely broke for a moment the enraged ranks 
who passed over them — while over all the war-cry, and the 
shouts of the combatants rang, drowning the moans of the 
wounded and the dying. Cool and collected amid this breath- 
less struggle, the chancellor Turketul selected a chosen band 
from amongst the Londoners and the brave men of Worcester- 
shire, who were renowned for their valour, and who feared 
nothing while Singin was at their head. These the warlike 
chancellor placed in close order, and himself leading the way, 
they plunged headlong upon Constantine and his Scots, Turketul 
paying no more regard to the arrows that stuck in his armour 
than a rhinoceros would if pierced with a dozen pins, nor did he 
halt until he had dealt a heavy blow on the helmet of the Cale- 
donian monarch. Had not the Scots rushed up in a body to 
the rescue, Turketul would have dragged their king, horse and 
all, into the Saxon ranks; they, however, came just in time to 
save him. 

Never had a warrior a narrower escape with his life than Tur- 
ketul. He was surrounded by the Scots, foremost amongst whom 
was the son of Constantine — who also narrowly escaped from being 
captured — when, just as the weapons were uplifted to despatch 
the chancellor, Singin rushed in at the head of his "Worcester- 
shire warriors, slew the Scottish prince with a single blow of 
his battle-axe, and rescued Turketul. The well-timed attack 
led on by Singin completed the defeat of the Scottish army, and 
they made no other attempt to rally; Constantine escaped. 
Leaving Turketul, Egil, and Singin to pursue the routed forces 
of the Welsh and Scots, we must now glance at that part of the 
field where the opposing forces, commanded by Athelstan and 
Anlaf, were engaged. Here the combat continued to rage 
unabated. The figure of the Saxon king was seen in the very 
thickest of the fight, and while he was hemmed in by his 
enemies, and showering down blows upon all who came within 
the reach of his weapon, his sword suddenly broke short at the 
handle. To receive the blows which were aimed at him upon 
his shield and snatch up another weapon were scarcely the work 
of a moment; but during that brief interval, Anlaf s troops 
obtained a slight advantage, and began to press more heavily 
upon the Saxon ranks. It were then that Anlaf, suddenly 
turning his head, beheld confusion in his rear; for Turketul 
and Egil, having returned from the pursuit, had thus suddenly 



THE REIGN OF ATHELSTAN. 209 

hemmed in the only portion of the enemy's forces that remain*! 
upon the field. With the powerful forces of ithels an belrt 
ZrSr 7,7; ^fy fl » shed with victory, attacking him £ 
the rear Anlar saw his hitherto brave soldiers wavering on all 

ant^t Twf I" "^ ^ ™ brokeD > a " d ^Tkft 
and right all was hurry, retreat, confusion, and slaughter 

The fond crvn' en w tbe SaX ° n baUner waved triumptaKS 
the loud cry of victory rang out in front, and was echoed back 

-X comw/ f the def r^ army: ~ the Cmflict was atl^d 
—the eornbined forces fled on every hand, and the conquerors 

Sf^" g T mJ ^V^ arms became wealth 
S e , ?■ aS th f T <=o«ld reach, it rested upon a long 

llLf k I yiDg and , tlle dead - Never d™ng the wars of 

SffJizzg** upon one fieM as £*— * *» 

mo^tlf the .P° ems wMch ^e been written to comme- 
TW h t an ° lent T1Ctories W descended to us perfect 
MJ™ composed to celebrate the Saxon triumph a 
h7vin 2 fold ?"T bUrS ' has '. h °wever, been more fortunate, 
having found a place even in the Saxon chronicle itself 

£ l haS ^ *«* translated > a * d q™*ed?r mat 
historians, there is something so forbidding to the eye in the 
shor, heavy hues, something so difficult to°comprehend in he 
fengthy extension, and abrupt transition of the Sentences that 
!lt aU V ! nt T u P° n a som «what free adaptation of the itera 
InTsKfTht~ P1 ' eSerVe Unaltered " he OTi = M *»£ 
ANGLO-SAXON SONG ON THE VICTORY AT BRUNANBUBG 

enemies in fhoVaWe JeM ' eaSUreS ' ,tar h0aie ' mtt thdr >«">> •«*« all 

of Tre'e^ToS'S noK f" T^ g hma - t0 wh ™ the *"»* «» 
setting, they pnrsoed and l!l IW* e """ e bri « ht ' hastened to his 
fleet to nnmleTdjlL fell aS , ^^ ^^ md the men of the 
blood of warriors mfnv ■ \lu- ? 1" fie ? WaS e ™'y whe re covered with the 
heroes ove^whose sSs the f Y ^ dead with darts *"•<><* down; many 
never again weZ S,?*?7 9J <m ° WS T 16 sLot > whom ae °"" Ie w<™M 
of Mars the Ee7' " ° eVer more I,oast that ""? we re of the raee 



210 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

Throughout the day the West-Saxons fiercely pressed on the loathed bands, 
they scattered the rear of the army, and hewed down the fugitives with their 
strong mill- sharpened swords. The Mercians shrunk not from the hard -hand- 
play, from the men, who with Anlaf over the ever beating deep, in the shins 
sheltered, sought this land for the deadly fight. In that blood dyed battle- 
field, five kings in the bloom of youth did the sword send to slumber, also seven 
of Anlaf s earls, and numbers of the ship-borne army slept with the slain. 

The Scots with the lord of the Northmen were chased away — fate compelled 
him to seek the noisy deep, and with a small host in his floating ship on the felon 
flood he escaped with his life, so also Constantine with his routed remnant in 
hasty flight, hurried to the north. Silent sat the hoary hero of Hilda amongst 
his kindred, for small cause had he to boast who had left his friends slain in 
combat ; and his son, the fair-haired youth, unused to the conflict, mangled with 
wounds in the battle field. 

Inwood the aged, nor Anlaf, no more with the wreck of their armies could 
now exult or boast that they, on the stern battle-field, were better at lower- 
ing the banners, 'mid the clashing of spears, and the crashing of weapons, 
and the meeting of heroes on the field of slaughter, than the sons of Edward, 
whom they opposed. On the roaring sea ; over the deep waters, a dreary and 
silent remnant, the northman sailed in their nailed ships, and sought in. Dublin 
and Ireland to bury their disgrace. 

Athelstan and his brother again sought their country, the west Saxon land 
from fight triumphant. They left behind them, to devour' the prey, the ominous 
kite and the black raven, with horned beak, the horse-toad, and the eagle, swift 
to feast on the white flesh ; the greedy battle-hawk, and the grey beast, the 
wolf of the weald. 

The poem then concludes by stating "as the books of the 
old historians inform us, never had there before been so great a 
slaughter in this island since the Saxons first came over the sea 
to conquer the Welsh, and gain the land." The victory of 
Brunanburg made Athelstan the monarch of England, for not 
only had he subjugated the Danes in East Anglia and Northum- 
bria, but had compelled the Welsh also to acknowledge his 
power. As the eyes of Europe had been turned upon him, be- 
fore he entered the field against the combined forces his valour 
defeated, so did the different nations now rival each other in 
their congratulations on his victory. England was no longer 
the unknown island, which in former times the Romans had 
such difficulty to discover; but began to raise her head proudly 
amongst the neighbouring nations. The exiles who were com- 
pelled to flee from the ravages of the Northmen, he received and 
succoured in his own court. He sheltered his sister Elgiva, and 
her son Louis, when her husband, the king of France, was de- 
throned and imprisoned. He was appealed to for advice and 



THE REIGN OP ATHELSTAN. 211 

assistance, when a dispute arose about the succession to the 
throne of France; and as he adjudged, so was the matter decided. 
His sisters were sought in marriage by powerful princes; his 
consent was courted by embassies, backed with costly presents; 
and he even fitted out a fleet, and sent it to the aid of France— 
thus being the first to cement a union with that kingdom, whose 
history in latter days has become so closely interwoven with 
our own. Even Otho, who was afterwards surnamed the great, 
obtained the hand of Athelstan's sister in marriage; and there is 
still in existence, in the Cotton library, a beautiful manuscript 
copy of the Gospels, in Latin, which was presented by Otho and 
his sister to Athelstan, on which the Anglo-Saxon kings are 
said to have sworn when they took the coronation oath. He was 
also honoured with the friendship of Henry the First, the em- 
peror of Germany, and by the alliance of his son in marriage with 
his sister Editha. Athelstan also formed a league with Harold, 
king of Norway, and through the instrumentality of the two 
kings, the system of piracy, which had long rendered the ocean 
as perilous as the tempests that sweep over it, was, by the 
interference of Harold, and the intercession of Athelstan, put 
down : for Harold not only chased the pirates from his own do- 
minions, but pursued them over the sea until he overtook, and 
destroyed them, and when he had cleared the ocean of these an- 
cient robbers, he drew up a code of severe laws for the punishment 
of all who dared to attack either the British or the Norwegian 
fleets. In such high estimation was Athelstan held by Harold, 
that he sent his son Haco over to England to be educated in the 
Saxon court, and so delighted was the Norway king with the 
progress the young prince made in his studies and warlike exer- 
cises, that he presented to Athelstan a beautiful ship, with purple 
sails, surrounded with shields that were richly gilt, while the 
prow, or figure at the head, was wrought out of pure gold. To the 
prince, the Saxon king presented a costly sword, which Haco the 
(xood, (as he was afterwards called, when he became kin*) trea- 
sured until the day of his death. When Harold died, and some 
difficulty arose as to the succession of Haco to the throne of 
JNorway, Athelstan provided him with soldiers and a strong 
fleet, and thus enabled him to take possession of his kingdom. 
Un the thrones of France, Bretagne, and Norway, sat three kings 
who were all indebted to Athelstan for their crowns; a strong 
proot of the power and dignity to which England had risen. 

p2 



212 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. 

He is said to have restored Howel to the kingdom of Wales, and 
Constantine to the throne of Scotland, after having conquered 
their dominions. Having assisted to dethrone Eric, and to 
place the crown of Norway on the head of Haco, he made 
the former king of Northumbria, as a proof of the respect 
he bore to the memory of his father Harold. Nor was he less 
liberal to the monks, but contributed freely to enriching the 
monasteries, both with money, books, and costly vessels, while 
several are said to have been built at his own expense. Like 
his grandfather Alfred, he was also generous to the poor; from 
the royal farms he ordered to be given to the needy every month 
a measure of meal, a gammon of bacon, or a ram worth four- 
pence, besides clothing once a year. These were to be distri- 
buted by the gerefa, who appears to have stood in the same 
position as an overseer, or relieving officer, having also to per- 
form the duty of chief constable, and to warn the hundred when 
the folk-mote or folcgemot was to assemble. If he neglected to 
distribute the royal charity, he was fined thirty shillings, which 
was divided amongst the poor of the neighbouring tything. 
High, however, as the character of Athelstan stands, it is not 
free from the stains which too often blotted the brightest names 
that adorned this barbarous age, though we cannot tell, at this 
remote period, how reluctantly he may have yielded to the stern 
sentence of his witenagemot, when he consigned his brother to 
death. Edwin had been leagued with others to oppose the acces- 
sion of Athelstan to the throne, and the king ordered him to be 
placed within the 

" Eotten carcass of a boat, nor rigged, 
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast," 

and without even an oar, to be launched upon the ocean, and 
left to chance, and the mercy of the waves. For some time the 
unfortunate prince continued to keep afloat within sight of land, 
until at last the wind rose, and perceiving that every billow but 
rolled him further into the hopeless ocean, he preferred an in- 
stant to a lingering death, and leaped boldly into the deep. His 
body was afterwards washed ashore, and for seven years Athel- 
stan is said to have mourned over his brother's death, with deep 
and bitter sorrow. Athelstan died about the year 940 or 
941 ; and, as he left no children, he was succeeded by his brother 
Edmund. 



213 
CHAPTER XXVI 

THE REIGNS OF EDMUND AND EDRED, 

** The time haslbeen, my senses would have cool'd 
To hear a night shriek ; and my fell of hair 
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir 
As life were in't : I have supped full with horrors ; 
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, 
Cannot once start me. — Wherefore was that cry ? 
The king, my lord, is dead." — Shakspere. 

Edmund, surnamed the Elder, had scarcely attained his 
eighteenth year, when he ascended the Saxon throne. Many 
of Athelstan's former enemies were still alive, and Anlaf, who 
had played so prominent a part at the battle of Brunanburg, 
again came over from Ireland, and placed himself at the head of 
the Northumbrian Danes, with whom he marched into Mercia, 
attacked Tamworth, and, in his first battle, defeated the Saxons. 
England was not yet destined to be subject to the sway of one 
king, for, after several defeats, Edmund employed the Arch- 
bishops of York and Canterbury to negotiate with Anlaf, and 
peace was concluded on the conditions that the Northumbrian 
prince was to reign over that part of England which extended 
to the north of Watling Street — the boundaries of which it is 
difficult to define. Another clause was also annexed, which 
placed the Saxon throne in greater jeopardy than it had ever 
before been; for Edmund entered into an agreement with 
Anlaf, that whoever survived the other should become the sole 
and undisputed sovereign of England. Death saved the Saxons 
from the degrading and dangerous position into which they had 
fallen, for Anlaf died in the following year, and after his death 
Edmund lost no time in taking possession of that portion of the 
kingdom which had been wrested from him by the valour of the 
Danish king. 

It may be that the youth or inexperience of Edmund made 
him fearful of measuring his strength against a veteran like 
Anlaf, for when he had once resolved to reduce the Danes to 
authority, he acted as became a descendant of Alfred, and not 
only subjected Northumbria to his sway, but drove the Danes from 



214 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

the towns they had so long occupied on the frontiers of Mercia, 
clearing the whole line of country from Stamford to Lincoln; 
and, crossing the Trent, he drove them from the cities of 
Leicester, Nottingham, and Derby, thus sweeping the whole of 
the midland counties of the Danes, and peopling the strong- 
holds from which he had driven them with Saxons, and amply 
making up for the vacillating weakness which marked the first 
year of his reign. Neither did his conquests end here; he next 
invaded Cumbria, unnecessarily tortured the sons of Dunmail, 
and then gave the small state to Malcolm of Scotland, on condition 
that he should defend the northern dominions, both by sea and 
land, against all invaders. Strange as it may appear, he was 
assisted in the subjugation of this petty kingdom by one of the 
Welsh kings, although Cumberland and Westmoreland, which 
formed the kingdom of Cumbria, were at this time inhabited by 
a remnant of the ancient Britons, over whom reigned Dunmail, 
its last Celtic king. Although the reign of Edmund is among 
the briefest of our early Saxon kings, containing but the mere 
entry of his name, a battle or two, and then his untimely death, 
embracing, from his first assuming the crown to his being borne 
to the grave, not more than five years, it offers to the contem- 
plative mind much matter for meditation. He commenced his 
reign by a dishonourable concession, such as Athelstan would 
never have thought of, though it had cost him both his king- 
dom and his life in resisting it. He ended it by an act of 
cruelty, causing the eyes of the sons of Dunmail to be put out. 
Shortly after this, he fell in his own banqueting-hall, by the 
hand of a robber, in the midst of his nobles,- while the wine-cup 
was circulating in celebration of the great Saxon feast held in 
memory of St. Augustine, he was struck dead by the dagger of 
Leof. At what place the deed was done, how the robber ob- 
tained admittance into the hall, whether angry words were 
exchanged between the assassin and the king, nothing certain 
is known — so much do the accounts vary in the old chronicles, 
although all admit the fact. 

Leof had been banished for six years; he suddenly appeared 
in the presence of the king; his object, beyond doubt, was to 
slay him. Could we but prove that the murderer belonged to 
the ancient Cymry, we should probably not be far in error in 
concluding that he came to revenge the tortures which had 
been inflicted on the British princes, who were blinded by the 



THE REIGNS OF EDMUND AND EDRED. 215 

command of Edmund. Vengeance only could have induced an 
armed and banished robber to rush into the presence of the 
king, when he was feasting in the midst of his nobles, and 
there, on his own hearth, to deprive him of life. Strange that 
the scene of an event so well known, should be buried in 
obscurity. There must have been motives that impelled the 
murderer to perpetrate such a deed, which were unfavour- 
able to the character of Edmund, or we should have met with 
something more than the mere entry of his violent death in the 
early chronicles. He was slain in his twenty-third year — in the 
dawn of manhood; but where he fell, or in what place he was 
buried, history has not left a single record that we can rely 
upon. Malmesbury says, " His death opened the door for fable 
all over England." How ominous his rising! how dark and 
sudden his setting! what splendour surrounded his noonday 
career; yet, withal, his life might be written in four brief sen- 
tences — " He perilled his kingdom in his youth — nobly redeemed 
the false step he had taken — committed an act of inhuman 
cruelty — was afterwards murdered, in the year 946. 

Edred succeeded Edmund, for the son of the latter was but 
a child when his father was slain. They were both sons of 
Edward the Elder by his second marriage, and, from the date of 
his death, must have been mere infants when he died. Both 
could claim the great Alfred as their grandfather. 

During the short reign of Anlaf, and the subjection of 
Northumbria by Edmund, we lose sight of Eric, the son of 
Harold of Norway, to whom Athelstan had generously given 
the crown of this northern kingdom, out of the respect he bore 
to his father. But Eric cared not to occupy a peaceful throne: 
if he was to be a king at all, he was resolved it should be a sea- 
king, so he took to his ships, and left his subjects to shift for 
themselves as they best could; for he had often, during his 
sovereignty, whiled away the pleasant summer months with a 
little pirating — had often treated his followers to an agreeable 
excursion on the sea, where they plundered all the ships 
they could, and conquered and slew their crews, no doubt 
capturing our own merchants, whenever a chance offered. After 
amusing himself and his companions for some time, by preying 
upon all who came in his way, around the coast of Scotland, he 
ventured over into Ireland, gathered what he could there, 
crossed the sea again, and ravaged Wales, picking up along the 



216 HISTORY OF ENGLAND, 

northern coast, whenever he came near home, all the choice 
spirits he could find about the Orkneys and the Hebrides. With 
these he roamed at his pleasure, plundering wherever he could, 
and performing such feats on the ocean as Kobin Hood and his 
merry men are, in a later day, supposed to have done in our old 
English forests. He was also joined by many of the most 
renowned sea-robbers from Norway, for the bold Vikingr found 
but little encouragement to plunder under the government of 
" Haco the Good." When Eric was weary of these rough Mid- 
summer holidays, he came back again to his kingdom, moored 
his ships, and placed his battle-axe upon the " smoky beam" 
until the following spring, never troubling himself about law or 
justice, but leaving his subjects either to do as they pleased, or 
follow the lawless example he set them: — he quaffed his cup, and 
sang his stormy sea-songs, and little recked Eric the Nor- 
wegian how the world went, so long as he could get out upon 
the windy ocean, and meet with prey and plunder upon the 
billows of the deep. All seems to have gone merrily with him, 
until, in an evil hour, he was either tempted or persuaded to 
ravage England. Where he landed is not known, but his 
success is said to have been great, and when he returned 
to Northumbria laden with plunder, his Danish subjects re- 
ceived him with warm welcome; although they had but just 
before sworn fidelity to Edred, still their hearts were with the 
daring sea-king, and they hailed him the more eagerly since 
Edred, after having received their oaths of allegiance, had turned 
his back upon the north. The Saxon king, although young, soon 
turned round, and punished the wavering Danes for their dis- 
loyalty. They again promised submission; but scarcely had he 
reached York before Eric was upon his heels, and so unex- 
pectedly did he fall upon the army of the Saxon king, that he 
cut off the rear-guard before he retreated. Edred once more 
wheeled round, over-ran Northumbria, compelled them to re- 
nounce Eric, inflicted a heavy fine, again received hostages and 
promises of allegiance, and took his departure. Eric but lin- 
gered on the sea until he was fairly out of sight, and then pre- 
pared to take vengeance upon the subjects who had disowned 
liim. 

There is but little doubt that the Danes who renounced Eric 
were backed by a strong Saxon force which Edred had taken the 
precaution of leaving in the neighbourhood. A battle was 



THE REIGNS OP EDMUND AND EDRED* 217 

fought, which is said to have lasted the whole day, and in it 
Eric, with five other sea-kings, was slain. Edred speedily- 
availed himself of the advantages obtained by this victory. He 
carried away captive many of ihe Danish chiefs who had been 
engaged in the rebellion, imprisoned Wulfstan, an archbishop, 
who had been foremost in heading the revolt, divided the king- 
dom into baronies and hundreds, over which he placed his own 
officers, and overawing the country by strong garrisons, he at 
last reduced it into a greater state of order and subjection than 
it had ever before been since the Danes were first allowed to 
occupy it. Although still inhabited by Danes, they were no 
longer allowed even a sub-king to reign over them, but, like the 
rest of the Saxon states, were under the sole government of 
Edred, and thus rendered less independent than they had ever 
been during the reign of the victorious Athelstan. 

So distinguished a sea-king as Eric was not likely to perish 
in battle without awakening the genius of the Scandinavian 
muse. "I have dreamt a dream," begins the northern poet; 
66 at the golden dawn of morning I was carried into the hall of 
Valhalla, and bade to prepare the banquet for the reception of 
the brave who had fallen in the battle. I blew the brazen trum- 
pet of Heimdal, and awoke the heroes from their sleep. I bade 
them to arise and arrange the seats and drinking-cups of skulls, 
as for the coming of a king." 

" * What meaneth all this noise?' exclaimed Braghi; * why are 
so many warriors in motion, and for whom are all these seats 
prepared?' 

" i It is because Eric is on his way to Valhalla,' replied Odin, 
c whose coming I await with joy. Let the bravest go forth to 
meet him.' 

" s How is it that his coming pleaseth thee more than that of 
any other king?' 

" ' Because/ answered Odin, c in more battle-fields hath his 
sword been red with blood; because in more places hath his deep- 
dyed spear spread terror, for he hath sent more than any other 
king to the palace of the dead.' 

" I heard a rushing sound as of mighty waters: the hall was 
filled with shadows. Then Odin exclaimed: <I salute thee, 
Eric! Enter, brave warrior; thrice welcome art thou to Val- 
halla. Say what kings accompany thee?-~-how many have come 
with thee from the combat?' 



218 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

" * Five kings accompany me,' replied Eric; * and I am the 
sixth.'" 

Although Eric was baptized, before he was placed on the 
throne of Northumbria by Athelstan, yet the northern scald was 
resolved to rescue him from his Christian paradise, and place 
him in those halls, which he thought were more befitting 
the spirit of a sea-king to dwell in. After the death of Eric, 
jnany of the Anglo-Danes became Christians, and several en- 
rolled themselves amongst the religious orders, thus becoming 
servants in the churches, which it had hitherto been their chief 
delight to burn and destroy. 

It was during the reign of Edred that the celebrated or noto- 
rious Dunstan rose into such notice, for there is scarcely another 
character throughout the whole range of history, upon which 
the opinions of writers vary so much as in their summary of this 
singular man. Madness, excessive sanctity, enthusiasm, hypo- 
crisy, cruelty, cunning, ambition, tyranny, have all been called 
in, to account for the motives by which he was actuated. With 
some the saint, and with others the sinner, has predominated, ac- 
cording to the medium by which his actions have been sur- 
veyed by different historians. It is difficult to sit down and 
contemplate his character in that grave mood which is so essen- 
tial to depict the truths of history, for with Satan on the 
one hand, and the saint on the other, the bellowing of the fiend, 
and the clattering of the anvil, we get so confused between the 
monk and the "brazen head," that we seem in a land of " wild 
romance," instead of standing on the sober shore of history. 
We will, however, deal as fairly with the dead, as the few facts 
we are in possession of enable us to do, without sacrificing our 
honest judgment. But first we must consign the remains of 
Edred to the grave of his forefathers. He died in 955, after 
having reigned nine years. He was afflicted with a slow, wasting 
disease, which gave to him the appearance of old age, although 
at his death he had numbered but little more than thirty win- 
ters. He, was succeeded by Edwin, the son of Edmund the 
elder. 



219 
CHAPTER XXVH. 

EDWIN AND ELGIVA. 

"He was a man 
Of an unbounded stomach, ever rankiuo- 

Himself with princes ; 

His own opinion was his law, 
He would say untruths ; and be ever double, 
Doth in his words and meaning. He was never 
Dut where he meant to ruin, pitiful. 

He was a scholar, and a ripe, and good one ; 
Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading 
Lofty and sour, to them that loved him not, 
Dut to those men that sought him sweet as summer." 

Shakspere. 

Edwin was not more than sixteen years of age when he ascended 
the throne. Although so young, he had married a beautiful and 
noble lady of lus own age, who appears to have been somewhat 
too closely related to him to please the stern dignitaries 
who were then placed at the head of the church, for it was at 
tins period when the rigid discipline of the Benedictine monks 
was first introduced into England. Odo, a Dane, and a descend- 
ant irom those savage sea-kings who destroyed the abbeys of 
Croyland and Peterborough, was, at this time, archbishop of 
Canterbury, for it was not then uncommon to place the pas- 
toral crook in warlike hands, as there are many instances on 
record which show that those who could best wield the battle- 

^Lr r p/ nt ^ Sted 7 it i 1 , th , eCrosier; and 0do ^d served both 
r t i t r I Athelstan, and had fought and prayed 
at the battle of Brunanburg. But before describing th e P most 

ultLon A ?f ?T tan ' and end <^ourto throw a little 
upon r tot Shad ° WSWhiChW S ° l0D " Se " led d0 ™ 
*„ w» ' ?"' T h ° V T S0 P rominen t a part at this period, appears 
have b!™ V f T$ Glastonbu ^ «»* while yet a boy, seems to 
™2 iTl d of vlsltln S ™ ^cient British church which had 
probably been erected by the Christians soon after the departure 
of the Eomans. At a very early period of his life, he w£ a be- 



220 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

liever in dreams and visions, and while yet unknown, imagined 
that a venerable figure appeared to him and pointed out the spot 
on which he was one day to erect a monastery. His studies were 
encouraged, and his abilities are said to have been so great that 
he was soon enabled to outstrip all his companions in learning. 
We next find him suffering from a severe fever, probably the 
result of excessive application, and which at last produced a state 
of dreadful delirium. In the height of his madness, he seized a 
stick and rushed out of his chamber, running with the speed of 
a maniac over hills and plains; and fancying in his frantic flight 
that a pack of wild hounds were pursuing him. Night found 
him in the neighbourhood of a church, on which workmen had 
been employed during the day; the invalid ascended the scaffold, 
and without injuring himself, got safely into the church, where he 
sank into a heavy slumber, from which he awoke not until morn- 
ing, when he found his intellects restored, though, to draw 
a charitable conclusion from any of his future actions, we should 
be justified in believing that there were intervals when the 
disease returned. He had sufficient patronage to obtain an 
introduction to the church or monastery at Glastonbury, where 
he again renewed his studies, and besides obtaining a thorough 
knowledge of the literature of that age, he appears to have ex- 
celled in mathematics, music, writing, engraviug, and painting, 
and also to have been a skilful worker in metals. Such talents 
as these, when so few excelled in any branch of the polite or finer 
mechanical arts, could not fail of bringing him speedily into 
notice, and he seems to have had an introduction to the royal 
palace early in the reign of Edmund. No greater proof of his 
intellectual attainments can be adduced, than his being accused 
while at court of dealing in the arts of magic; for so far had he 
shot beyond the ignorance and error of the age, that what could 
now be readily comprehended by an ordinary understanding, was 
in that benighted period attributed to supernatural agency ; and 
so strongly did the current of prejudice set in against him, that 
Dunstan was driven from the court. 

We can imagine with what shouts of derision he was pursued, 
and with what loathing and heartburning he must have quitted 
the palace as he fled before his insulting enemies, who, not 
content with having hurled him from his high estate, pursued 
him, and threw him into a miry ditch, beside a marsh, where 
they left him to escape or perish. v We can picture him reaching 



EDWIN AND ELG1VA. 221 

hii friend's house, at about a mile distant, the sorrow that 
wrapped his heart as he looked upon his blighted prospects, the 
anger that lighted his eye, and the burning scorn which lie 
poured in withering words upon the unlettered herd, as he 
breathed his sorrow, and suffering, and disgrace, into the bosom 
of his friend, and, with a sigh, looked upon all his hopes thus 
undeservedly overthrown. For a short period, we here lose 
sight of Dunstan; when we next meet with him, he is on the 
point of marriage with a maiden to whom he appears to have 
been greatly attached. He is dissuaded from marriage by his 
relation, the bishop of JEifheag, who tells him that such inclina- 
tions only emanate from the Evil one, and persuades him to 
become a monk. Love for a time made Dunstan eloquent, and 
our only marvel is, that a man who was so susceptible of the 
tender passion should, on a future day, become the unfeeling 
opponent of marriage, and wield the power he possessed with 
an unrelenting and iron arm over every priest who had entered 
into this honourable bond of union. For a long time the bishop 
argued in vain. Dunstan had then many reasons to urge in 
favour of love and marriage; and probably, at that period, never 
dreamed that he should have to use both force and argument 
against them; but he seems to have been doomed to suffer 
disappointment: and, although he endured it, it soured his 
better nature, for, like Jonah's gourd, all that promised him 
hope and delight seemed as if it only grew up to perish a 
withering mockery. Sickness again attacked him, a disease 
that brought him well nigh to death's door; he gave up all hopes 
of recovery, he renounced all earthly happiness, and when he 
began to turn his inward eye to that spiritual existence beyond 
the grave, earth heaved up slowly, and to him sadly, and shut 
out the coveted land of which he had obtained a dim glimpse, 
but that earth was no longer to him the garden of hope and love. 
He rose from his sick bed a melancholy and altered man; 
became a monk, and in his cold, grey, stony cell, which shut 
him up as in a grave, from the warm womanly heart he had 
once so fondly doted upon, he vowed to lead a life of celibacy. 

Up to this period of his life, Dunstan wins our sympathy: we 
have seen him driven out, amid hooting and derision, from the 
court; we have seen the golden link of love, which still bound 
him to mankind, snapped heartlessly asunder; and now we 
behold him buried, with all his genius and learning, in the lonely 



222 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

cell of a silent monastery. No marvel that, like the weary lion 
who has been hard pressed by the cruel hunters, he at last got 
up and shook himself — looked round with disgust upon the 
narrow cave he had been driven into, and glared with scorn and 
rage as he thought upon the puny power he had fled from; then 
shook his majestic mane and rushed out, and filled the whole 
neighbourhood with his roar. 

How from his soul he must have spurned the ignorant mass 
who came to look at him in the cell which he had dug in the 
earth, and which seems to have been but little larger than a 
common grave! What contempt he must have felt for the 
illiterate crowd, as he toiled in his smithy, to hear them attribute 
the roaring of his bellows, and the clattering of his hammer, to 
the howling and bellowing of the devil; and, even sick and 
weary as he was of the world, a suppressed smile must have 
played about the corner of his mouth, as he saw the credulous 
crowd gather around, who believed that he had seized the foul 
fiend by the nose. Still it is hard to suppose that a man of his 
learning and talent would for a moment lend himself to so 
improbable a tale: he might, however, have seen the power 
he was likely to gain from such a rumour, so let it take its 
course, leaving those to credit it who were simple enough 
to do so. The making for himself a narrow cell, and living in it 
for a given time, was no uncommon penance at that period, 
when hermits were found in lonely places, and priests, who had 
been driven from their monasteries by the Danes, were com- 
pelled to shelter in caves and forests, which they frequently 
never quitted until death. Guthlac, on the lonely island at 
Croyland, differed but little from Dunstan in his self-inflicted 
probation. 

It is, after all, difficult to suppose that his fame spread 
amongst the highest ranks, through an idle and vulgar rumour 
being circulated of his having pulled Satan's nose. Such a 
report would never have drawn the Lady Ethelfleda, who had 
descended from Alfred the Great, to visit him — to extol 
his conversation, and to praise his piety; to introduce him 
to the king, and, at her death, to leave him all her wealth. 
Still less likely is it that such a fabrication would have raised 
him high in the estimation of the venerable Chancellor Tur- 
ketul, the man who had so distinguished himself, in the reign of 
Athelstan, at the battle of Brunanburg. Nor can we believe 



EDWIN AND ELGIVA 223 

that a grandson of the great Alfred would be so credulous as to 
appoint hirn abbot of Glastonbury, unless he had had some solid 
proofs of his learning and piety; for Edred made him his con- 
fidential friend and councillor, and entrusted to his care all his 
treasure.* We will not acquit him of ambition, nor deny that he 
might have deviated a little from a fair and honest course to 
obtain power; that he became cautious and reserved; for the 
man who in his younger days had been driven from the court 
for his candour, and rolled in a ditch by those who were either 
envious of his talents or too ignorant to appreciate his high 
intellectual attainments, would naturally become more wary for 
the future. He who but received hardship and insult as a re- 
ward for his wisdom, would best display it afterwards by remain- 
ing silent. Martyrs to a good cause act otherwise; but all men 
covet not such immortality. We are painting the character of 
a man disappointed in ambition and love; yet eager as of old for 
power — such elements, though imperfect, are human. The man 
who inflicted stripes upon himself for refusing the see of Win- 
chester, in the hopes of one day being made Archbishop of Can- 
terbury, had before been whipped for his honesty; and although 
such deception would ill become one who aspired to be a saint, 
it would be pardoned in a disappointed statesman. A man 
kicked out of court, under the imputation of having " dealings 
with the devil," but played trick for trick when he put the lash 
into the hand of St. Peter. Dunstan had his eye upon an emi- 
nence, and was resolved to attain it. Usurers and misers some- 
times fix their thoughts upon a given sum, which they resolve 
to obtain, and then become honest. Human nature a little 
warped was the same nine hundred years ago as now. We are 
drawing the character of one who was then a living and moving 
man, subject to human infirmities, for in his alleged saint-ship we 
have no belief whatever, though Dunstan himself might aspire 
to the title, and with a brain at times diseased, try at last to 
find that sanctity within himself which others attributed to him, 
even as a healthy man with a yellowish look discovers, through 
the allusions of his friends, that he has got the jaundice, although 
his countenance has only been exposed to the sun. 

* Turner's "Anglo- Saxons," vol. 2, p. 248. Although we differ from this 
honest and able historian in many of the inferences he has drawn from undis- 
puted facts, we believe no writer ever sat down with a firmer determination 
to do justice to the memory of the dead than Sharon Turner. 



224 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

In miracles, the hand of God is manifested; when the dead 
are raised, and the blind suddenly restored to sight, we question 
not the Almighty power; but we doubt St. Peter lacerating the 
back of Dunstan, and even acquit the latter of so merry a joke, as 
that which was invented about his taking the devil by the nose 
with his red hot tongs, and alarming all the neighbourhood by 
his bellowings. If " possibility " is dragged into the argument, 
we must remain silent, for no one is impious enough to limit 
the power of the Deity. Where it would evince a want of faith 
to doubt the holiness of the apostles, it would be no sin to hesi- 
tate before we pronounced Dunstan, or Thomas-a-Becket, or 
Peter the Hermit, saints. What a simple-minded peasant would 
devoutly believe to be the truth in the present day, an intelligent 
person would be scarcely tolerated in enlightened society for 
asserting, — and by such homely facts as these are the truths of 
history only to be tested. 

The first act which brings Dunstan so prominently forward 
in the reign of Edwin is his rude attack upon the king on the 
day of his coronation. Edwin had retired early from the ban- 
quet-hall, to seek the society of his beautiful wife Elgiva, in her 
own apartment, when his absence was remarked by the assembled 
guests. Odo, the Danish archbishop, was present at the coro- 
nation feast, and perceiving that the retirement of the king dis- 
pleased the company, commanded those persons who were 
attendant upon him to fetch Edwin back. After some demur 
by the party whom Odo addressed, Dunstan and another bishop, 
his relation, undertook to bring back the king. Elgiva's 
mother was in the chamber with Edwin and her daughter when 
the two bishops entered, rudely, and unannounced. Edwin, it 
appears, at the moment of their entrance, was in one of his 
merry moods, and doubtless glad that he had escaped from the 
drunken revels of a Saxon feast, had taken off his crown and 
placed it on the ground, and was engaged in a playful struggle 
with his queen, when the bishops broke so rudely upon his re- 
tirement; or it is very probable that the crown had fallen off his 
head while toying with her, and that seeing the emblem of sove- 
reignty thus cast aside like a bauble, may for a moment have chafed 
the temper of the irritable and decorous Dunstan. We could see 
nothing to condemn on the part of the bishop, if he had respect- 
fully solicited the return of the king to the banquet; but when 
Edwin refused to go, and Dunstan dragged him rudely from his 



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EDWIN AND ELGIVA, 225 

seat, and forced the crown again upon his head, the latter far out- 
stepped his commission, and acted more like a traitor than a loyal 
subject in thus attempting to coerce the king. It would, in those 
days, have been held a justifiable act on the part of Edwin to have 
laid the haughty prelate dead at his feet. Elgiva, with the spirit 
of a true woman, upbraided the bishop for his insolence, and Dun- 
stan, we fear, made use of such epithets as belonged more to the 
smithy than the sanctum; and in which he alluded to the painted 
lady who is described in the Old Testament as having been 
thrown out of her window, and devoured by dogs. Nor should we 
think that the man who had the boldness to attempt to drag out 
the king by force, would hesitate to throw out a gentle hint, 
that, if opposed, he would adopt the same method of silencing 
her as that which was used in stilling the tongue of a " king's 
daughter." To account for this palace brawl, we must conclude 
that the Danish prelate and the Saxon bishop had pledged each 
other to such a depth in their cups as perilled their reason, or, 
in other words, there is but little doubt, the reputed saint was 
the worse for the wine-cup. Edwin's first act was, however, 
sufficient to restore him again to his senses, and although he 
was the friend of Turketul, the chancellor, and stood high in 
the estimation of Odo, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the young 
king deprived Dunstan of all the offices he held, confiscated his 
wealth, and sentenced him to banishment. 

Here we behold Dunstan once more driven from court, 
and he no longer carries our sympathies with him, as before- 
time. A private gentleman, much less a king, could not calmly 
have brooked the insult Dunstan offered to his sovereign. Ten 
thousand men might be found in the present day, who would 
have rebuked the proudest bishop that ever wore a mitre, had 
he but dared to intrude thus upon their privacy. We have 
before stated that Elgiva w r as somewhat closely related to 
her husband, though it is pretty clear that this kinship extended 
not nearer than to that of cousin. Such as it was, however, the 
savage Odo made it a plea for divorce, and separated the king 
from his wife. Not contented with this, the bloody-minded and 
cruel archbishop sent a party of savage soldiers to seize her — 
to drag her like a criminal from her own palace, and, oh! horrible 
to relate, to brand that beautiful face, which only to look on 
was to love, with red hot iron — the lips and cheeks which the 
young king had so proudly hung over and doted upon, were ? 



226 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

by the command of the cursed Odo, burnt by the hands of 
ruffianly soldiers — by the order of this miscalled man of God- 
yet the lightning of Heaven descended not to drive his mitre 
molten into his brain. Oh, what heart-rending shrieks must 
that beautiful woman have sent forth! — what inhuman monsters 
must they have been who held her white wrists, as she writhed 
in convulsive agony. Death, indeed, would have been mercy 
compared to such bloody barbarism; after this, she was banished, 
in all her agony, to Ireland. 

Time, that, like sleep, is the great soother of so many sorrows, 
healed the wounds which the hard-hearted Odo had caused to be 
inflicted on the youthful queen, and her surpassing beauty once 
more broke forth, and erased the burning scars with which it 
had been disfigured, — like a rose, that, in its full-blown loveliness, 
leaves no trace of the blight that had settled down upon the 
bud. With a heart, yearning all the more fondly for her youth- 
ful husband, through the sufferings, which had been embit- 
tered by his absence, she rushed, on the eager wings of love, 
to pour her sorrows into his bosom, and to pillow her beautiful 
head on that heart which had known no rest since their cruel 
separation; but the demons of destruction were again let loose 
upon her. She was pursued and overtaken before she had reached 
those arms which were open to receive her, and so dreadfully 
was the body of that lovely lady mangled, that the blood rolls 
back chilly into the heart, while we sit and sigh over her suffer- 
ings. We will not pain our readers by describing this unpa- 
ralleled butchery. But Odo reaped his reward. " Ven- 
geance is mine," saith the Lord; and before His unerring tribunal 
the spirit of the mitred murderer, centuries ago, trembled. 

. From the hour of Elgiva's murder, the spirit of Edwin drooped. 
He seems to have sat like a shadow with the sceptre in his hand, 
" nerveless, listless, dead." His subjects rebelled against him. 
Dunstan was recalled from banishment, and new honours were 
heaped upon his head. Edwin's kingdom was divided, and though 
his brother Edgar was not more than thirteen years of age, the 
dominions of Northumbria and Mercia were placed under his 
sway. The infamous Odo, and his emissaries, were at last 
triumphant; and there is scarcely a doubt but that, a few years 
after the death of his wife, Edwin himself was murdered in 
Gloucestershire, In several old chronicles it is darkly hinted 



THE REIGN OP EDGAR. 227 

that he met with a violent death: in one, which is still extant in 
the Cotton Library, it is clearly asserted that he was slain. 

A youthful king, on whose head the crown, with all its cares 
and heart -aches, was placed at the age of sixteen, was but ill- 
armed to battle with the hoary-headed, cunning, and grey iniquity 
which surrounded his throne. He, who would cast his crown 
upon the ground to toy with his beautiful wife, was no match 
for that hypocrisy which was hidden beneath the folds of a 
saintly garb. When, with a spirit far beyond his years, he 
boldly resented the insult that Dunstan had offered to him, the 
whole power of the court was at once arrayed against him, for 
Dunstan was already venerated by the ignorant people as a saint: 
he had the chancellor and the primate on his side; and few would 
be found to make head against a cause on the part of which 
such powerful authorities were arranged as leaders. The respect 
which was due to a king must have been greatly lessened by the 
insult which Dunstan had offered to his sovereign. It resembled 
more the conduct of a schoolmaster towards an unruly pupil than 
that of a subject to his superior. Edwin closed his troublous 
career about the year 959; and by his death Edgar, who had for 
three years ruled over the northern dominions, became kin£ of 
England. * 



CHAPTER XXVIIL 

THE REIGN OF EDGAR. 

*< The royal letters are a thing of course ; 
A king, that would, might recommend his horse, 
And deans, no doubt, and chapters with one voice, 
As bound in duty, would confirm the choice. 
Behold your bishop ! well he plays his part, 
Christian in name, and infidel in heart."— Cowper. 

Over the reign of Edgar, who ascended the throne in his six- 
teenth year, the shadow of Dunstan again falls, and those who 
had rent the kingdom asunder, and placed him, when a mere 
boy, upon the throne of Mercia, kept a more tenacious hold 
ol the crown as its circle widened, and gathered closer round 

Q2 



228 HISTOltY OP ENGLAND, 

Edgar as they saw his power increased. Dunstan had by this 
time risen to the dignity of bishop of London. The infamous 
Odo had died about the close of the reign of Edwin, and, weak- 
ened as the power of that unfortunate king was, he had spirit 
enough to appoint another to the primacy of England. The 
bishop that Edwin had nominated perished in the snow while 
crossing the Alps; for the pontiffs had issued a decree that no 
one should be established in the dignity of archbishop till he had 
first visited Rome, and received the pallium ; which, as we have 
before described, was a tippet made of the whitest and purest of 
lamb's wool, chequered with purple crosses, and worn over the 
shoulders. Another bishop was appointed in his place, but he 
was soon compelled to resign the primacy, the objections raised 
against him being, that he was modest, humble, and of a gentle 
temper — virtues which, although they form the very basis of the 
Christian character, but ill accorded with the views of the am- 
bitious churchmen who now surrounded the throne of the young 
king. In 960, only a year after the accession of Edgar, Dun- 
stan, although he held the sees of Winchester, Worcester, 
Rochester, and London, was appointed archbishop of Canter- 
bury, and received the pallium from the hand of Pope John the 
Twelfth, at Rome. Dunstan lost no time in promoting the inte- 
rests of those who had assisted in raising him to his new dig- 
nity. He appointed Oswald, a relation of Odo, to the bishopric 
of Worcester ; and Ethelwold, with whom he had been 
educated in his early years, he made bishop of Winchester. 
They also, by the intercession of Dunstan, became the king's 
councillors. By this means, he had ever those who were his 
sworn friends and servants at the elbow of the sovereign. That 
he contributed to the spreading of education and to the encou- 
ragement of the fine arts will ever redound to the credit of 
Dunstan; while the supernatural gifts to which he laid claim 
— the vision of his mother's marriage with the Saviour 
— the song which, he said, the angel taught him, and with 
which he roused every monk in the monastery, at morning 
light, to learn — we must, in charity, attribute to that temporary 
insanity to which he was at times subject, and which did not 
even pass unnoticed by his contemporaries. 

Nearly the first act of the primate appears to have been the 
establishment of the Benedictine rules in the monasteries; for 
the severe and rigid tenets which were adhered to by this new 



THE REIGN OP EDGAR. 229 

order of monks appear to have suited the cold, stony nature of 
the new archbishop, the warm emotions of whose heart had now 
died out, and faded into that cold, ashy grey, which, having lost 
all sympathy with the living and breathing world, lies as if dead 
and in a grave, while the heartless body still lives and acts. 

Sorry we are that Edgar so implicated himself with the views 
-of the ambitious primate, that whatever Dunstan planned, 
the king executed, and in every way favoured the new order of 
monks. The following may be taken as a sample of Edgar's 
eloquence in favour of the Benedictine order; it was delivered at 
a public synod, over which the king presided. After condemning 
the secular clergy for the smaliness of their tonsure, in which the 
least possible patch of baldness was displayed, and finding fault 
with them for mixing with the laity, and living with concubines, 
for that was the new name by which Dunstan now designated 
the wives of the clergy, he addressed the primate as fol- 
lows: " It is you, Dunstan, by whose advice I founded monas- 
teries, built churches, and expended my treasure in the support 
of religion and religious houses. You were my councillor and 
assistant in all my schemes; you were the director of my con- 
science; to you I was obedient in all things. "When did you call 
for supplies which I refused you? Was my assistance ever want- 
ing to the poor? Did I deny support and establishments to the 
clergy or the convents? Did I not hearken to your instruc- 
tions, who told me that these charities were of all others the 
most grateful to my Maker, and fixed a perpetual fund for the 
support of religion? And are all our pious endeavours now frus- 
trated by the dissolute lives of the priests? Not that I throw 
any blame on you ; you have reasoned, besought, inculcated, in- 
veighed; but it now behoves you to use sharper and more vigor- 
ous remedies, and, conjoining your spiritual authority with the 
civil power, to purge effectually the temple of God from thieves 
and intruders." 

Although Edgar was such an unflinching advocate of celibacy, 
and is said to have made married priests so scarce, that it was a 
rarity to see the face of one about his court, he appears to have 
fixed no limits to his own vicious propensities. While his first 
queen was yet surviving, he carried off a beautiful young ladj, of 
noble birth, named Wulfreda, from the nunnery of Wilton, where 
she w^as receiving her education, under the sanctity of the veil. 
This, however, was no protection for her person; but Dunstan 



230 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

had the courage to step in, and inflict a penance upon the royal 
ravisher; which was, to fast occasionally; to lay aside his crown 
for seven years; to pay a fine to the nunnery; and, as if to 
make all in keeping with the action, for which he was thus 
mulct, he was to expel all the married clergy, and fill up their 
places with monks. Such was the penalty inmposed upon him 
by Dunstan, who, himself disappointed in love in his earlier 
years, was now the sworn enemy of all married priests. 
Whether such edicts as he promulgated, and rigidly enforced, 
were calculated to check or increase such infamous acts as the 
above, there can scarcely remain matter of doubt; but how 
many Wulfredas the enforcing of his unnatural laws of celibacy 
were the means of violating can never now be known. 

Edgar having heard rumours of the beauty of Elfrida, who 
was the daughter of Ordgar, earl of Devonshire, despatched 
one of his noblemen, named Athelwold, on some feigned busi- 
ness, to the castle of her father, to see if her features bore out 
the report he had heard of her beauty. Athelwold saw her, 
was suddenly smitten with her charms, and keeping the mission 
he was sent upon a secret, offered her his hand, was accepted, 
and married her. Though Athelwold had reported unfavour- 
ably of her beauty, and, through this misrepresentation, obtained 
Edgar's consent to marry her, influenced, as he said, by her im- 
mense wealth, the truth was not long before it reached the ears of 
Edgar, who resolved upon paying her a visit himself. The king's 
will was law; and all Athelwold could now do was to entreat 
of Edgar to allow him to precede him, pleading, as an excuse for 
his request, that he might put his house in order for the recep- 
tion of his royal guest. His real object, however, was to gain 
time, and to persuade his wife to disguise her beauty by wearing 
homely attire, or to suffer another to personate her until the 
king's departure. But Elfrida, who, like Drida of old, concealed, 
under the form of an angel, the evil passions of a fiend, rebuked 
her husband sternly for having stepped in, and prevented her 
from ascending the throne, and for having himself snatched up 
that beauty which might have raised her to the rank of queen. 
All, however, was not yet lost; and never before had Elfrida 
bestowed such pains in decorating her person as she did on the 
day of the king's arrival. She was resolved upon captivating 
him: and as nature had done so much, she called in the charms 
of art to give a finish to her unequalled beauty. We can almost 



THE REIGN OF EDGAR. 231 

fancy poor Athelwold fidgeting about the turret-stair, and think- 
ing every minute which she spent over her toilet an hour; and 
what a hopeless look the poor Saxon nobleman must have given, 
as, startled by the trumpets which announced the coming of the 
king, she rose from her seat with a proud step, and a kindling 
eye, glancing contemptuously upon her husband as she passed, 
and hurrying eagerly to the gate, to be foremost in welcoming 
the sovereign. The king was charmed; Athelwold was found 
murdered in a neighbouring wood; Edgar married Elfrida, and 
her name is another of those foul stains which disfigure the 
page of history. There is no proof that Edgar stabbed Athel- 
wold with his own hand; on the contrary, there was a natural 
bravery about the king, more in keeping with the ehivalric age 
than the barbarous times in which he lived. To cite a proof of his 
valour : it had been reported to him that Kenneth of Scotland, 
who was then on a visit at the English court, had one day said 
that it was a wonder to him so many provinces should obey a 
man so little; for Edgar was not only small in stature, but very 
thin. The Saxon king never named the matter to his guest, 
until one day when they were riding out together, in a lonely 
wood, when Edgar produced two swords, and handing one to the 
Scottish sovereign, said, " Our arms shall decide which ought to 
obey the other; for it will be base to have asserted that at a 
feast which you cannot maintain with your sword." Kenneth 
recalled his ill-timed remark, apologized, and was forgiven. 
Such a man would scarcely stoop to so base an act as assassina- 
tion. 

None of the Saxon kings had ever evinced such a love of 
pomp and display as Edgar. He summoned all the sovereigns to 
do homage for the kingdoms they held under him, at Chester; and, 
not content with this acknowledged vassalage, he commanded his 
barge to be placed in readiness on the river, and, seating him- 
self at the helm, was rowed down the Dee by the eight tributary 
kings who were his guests. But with all his pride he was 
generous; and to Kenneth of Scotland, who had thus conde- 
scended to become one of his royal bargemen, he gave the 
whole wide county of Louth, together with a hundred ounces of 
the purest gold, and many costly rings, ornaments, and precious 
stones, beside several valuable dresses of the richest silk; only 
exacting in return that Kenneth should, once a year, attend his 
principal feast. Every spring he rode in rich array through 



232 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

his kingdom, accompanied by Dunstan and the nobles of his 
court, when he examined into the conduct of the rulers he had 
appointed over the provinces, and rigorously enforced obedience 
to the laws. He gave great encouragement to foreign arti- 
ficers, regardless from what country they came; if they but 
evinced superior skill in workmanship, it was a sure pass- 
port to the patronage of Edgar. The tax which Athelstan 
imposed upon the Welsh, after he had won the battle of 
Brunanburg, Edgar commuted into an annual tribute of three 
hundred wolves' heads; and, by such a wise measure, the 
kingdom was so thinned of this formidable animal, that on the 
fourth year a sufficient number could not be found to make up 
the tribute. Three centuries after, and in the reign of Edward 
the First, we find England again so infested with wolves, that 
a royal mandate was issued to effect their extinction in the 
counties of Gloucester, Worcester, Hereford, and Stafford, and 
that in other places great rewards were also given for their 
destruction. Our Saxon ancestors called January Wolf-month, 
"because," says an old chronicle, "people are wont always in 
that moneth to be more in danger to be devoured of wolves than 
in any season els of the yere, for that through the extremity of 
cold and snow, those ravenous creatures could not find of other 
beasts sufficient to feed upon." The terror with which the 
wolf was regarded by our forefathers, doubtless caused many of 
the Saxon kings and leaders to assume the name of an animal 
which was so formidable for its courage and ferocity. Thus we 
find such names as JEthelwulf, the noble wolf; Berhtwulf, the 
illustrious wolf; Wulfric, powerful as a wolf; Eardwulf, the 
wolf of the province; Wulfheah, the tall wolf; Sigwulf, the 
victorious wolf; and Ealdwolf, the old wolf. So infested were 
the " cars" of Lincolnshire, and the wolds of Yorkshire, with 
wolves, which were wont to breed, in what are now the marsh- 
lands beside the Trent, amongst the sedge and rushes, that the 
shepherds were compelled to drive their flocks at night for 
safety into the towns and villages. And in the time of 
Athelstan, a retreat was built in the forest of Flixton, in 
Yorkshire, for passengers to shelter in, and defend themselves 
from the attacks of wolves. 

Edgar died in the year 975, at the age of thirty-two. By 
his first wife he had a son named Edward, who succeeded him; 
also a daughter who ended her life in a nunnery. By Elfrida, 





m 



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7^ y%^^yX^^>C^y^ <5nU&^£J 



EDWARD THE MARTYR. 233 

the widow of the murdered Athelwold, he had two sons, 
Edmund, who died young, and Ethelred, who in his turn 
obtained the crown by the murder which Elfrida caused to be 
committed. 

Elfric, who lived a few years after the death of Edgar, has 
left the following highly-coloured testimonial in praise of his 
character: " Of all the kings of the English nation, he was the 
most powerful. And it was the Divine will that his enemies, both 
kings and earls, who came to him desiring peace, should, 
without any battle, be subjected to him to do what he willed. 
Hence he was honoured over a wide extent of land." This 
panegyric, we think, is somewhat overdrawn: it is true that he 
kept up a large fleet, consisting of twelve hundred ships, which 
he stationed on different points of the coast — that he punished 
those who plundered the vessels of his merchants — executed the 
law rigorously on the coiners of false money, and left England 
as free from robbers as it had been at the close of the reign of 
Alfred. Still, with all his high-sounding titles, which in some 
of his charters run to the length of eighteen lines; he rivets not 
the eye, nor interests the heart, like many of his predecessors 
who grace the great gallery of our early Saxon kings. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

EDWARD THE MARTYR. 

fi For saints may do the same things by 
The Spirit, in sincerity, 
Which other men are tempted to, 
And at the devil's instance do." — Butleb's Hudibras, 

" The tyrannous and bloody act is done ; 
The most arch deed of piteous massacre 
That ever yet this land was guilty of." — Shakspebe. 

Edward, called the Martyr, was a mere boy of fifteen when he 
ascended the throne, which was vacated by the death of his 
father, Edgar. As he had been schooled under Dunstan, and 
his mind moulded to suit the purposes of the ambitious primate, 
he was chosen, in opposition to the wishes of Elfrida, who boldly 



234 history of England. 

came forward and claimed the crown for her son Ethelred, then 
a child only six years old. This aspiring queen was not without 
her adherents; and as the rigorous measures to which Dunstan 
had resorted, to coerce the married clergy and exclude them from 
officiating in the churches, had rendered him unpopular in many 
quarters, numbers were found ready to rally round Elfrida and her 
son Ethelred. But Edward had been appointed king by the 
will of his father, and the charge against his legitimacy appears 
to have been altogether unfounded; for he was the undoubted 
son of Edgar, and the fruit of his first marriage with Elfleda, 
who was called " the Fair;" and Dunstan adopted the readiest 
method of settling the dispute by assembling the bishops, and 
such of the nobles as were favourable to his cause, then placing 
the crown at once upon his head. 

Meantime, the contest continued to be waged more keenly be- 
tween the monks and the secular clergy. Dunstan had opposed 
the coronation of Ethelred; and Elfrida, who was as bold as she 
was cruel, rose up, and took the part of the married priests. 
Elfere, the governor of Mercia, also set the primate at defiance, 
emptied all the monasteries in his province of the Benedictine 
monks, and levelled many of their buildings to the ground — a 
strong proof that the power of the archbishop was on the wane. 
Alwin, the governor of East Anglia, took the side of Dunstan; 
gave shelter to the monks who had been driven out of Mercia; 
and chased the married priests from the province over which he 
ruled. Beside Mercia, the secular clergy had obtained possession 
of many monasteries; and to end these disputes, Dunstan con* 
vened a synod at Winchester. Here a voice is said to have 
issued from the crucifix which was fixed in the wall, which for- 
bade all change; and instead of arguing the matter fairly, Dun- 
stan at once exclaimed — " A divine voice has determined the 
affair; what wish ye more?" This artifice, however, did not 
succeed; for there were then, as now, men who had great mis- 
givings about Dunstan's miracles, and who believed that he 
would not hesitate to avail himself of any means he could impress, 
to carry out his object. Dunstan, seeing the mistrust and doubt 
with which his pretended miracle was received, resolved that, if 
they did not accede to his wishes, his next attempt at the mar- 
vellous should be accompanied with proof of his vengeance. 

It was in the year 978 that this second or third council was 
held at Calne, It was, as before, a Saxon parliament, or witena- 



EDWARD THE MARTYR. 235 

gemot, consisting of the nobles and principal clergy of the nation. 
The opponents of Dunstan appear to have grown hot in argu- 
ment, and, according to one of our ancient historians, William of 
Malrnesbury, " the matter was agitated with great warmth of 
controversy, and the darts of many reproaches were thrown on 
Dunstan, but could not shake him." The following reply of 
the primate to the attack made upon him is given from Os- 
berne, who was the friend and councillor of the archbishop 
Langfranc, a man who held Dunstan in the highest estimation. 
Osberne was alive about a century after the event took place 
which he records. After having defended himself for some time, 
Dunstan concluded with these remarkable words: i Since you 
did not, in such a lapse of time, bring forward your accusation, 
but, now that I am old and cultivating taciturnity, seek to dis- 
turb me by these antiquated complaints, / confess that I am un- 
willing that you should conquer me. I commit the cause of his 
church to Christ as the Judge.' He spoke, and the wrath of 
the angry Deity corroborated what he said; for the house was 
immediately shaken; the chamber was loosened under their feet; 
his enemies were precipitated to the ground, and oppressed by 
the weight of the crushing timbers. But where the saint 

WAS RECLINING WITH HIS FRIENDS, THERE NO RUIN OCCURRED." 

Eadmar, who was contemporary with Osberne, expresses him- 
self still more clearly, though he appears not for a moment to 
have suspected that the villanous affair was arranged by Dun- 
stan and his confidential friends. " He spoke, and, lo! the floor 
under the feet of those who had come together against him fell 
from beneath them, and all were alike precipitated; but where 
Dunstan stood with his friends, no ruin of the house, no accident 
happened." The Saxon chronicle, an authentic record of that 
period, also notices the falling in of the floor, and the escape of 
Dunstan. As this is the greatest blot on his character, we have 
been careful in producing such undisputed authorities. To at- 
tribute the catastrophe to an accident, would be reasonable, had 
only Dunstan himself escaped; but when we look at the conclu- 
sion of the speech which is attributed to him by those who ad- 
mired his character — " I confess that I am unwilling you should 
conquer" — and see it recorded that all his friends were unin- 
jured, we are surely justified in concluding that the floor had 
been previously undermined, and that all was so arranged that, 
at a given signal, the only remaining prop was removed, and 



236 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

Dun stan and his friends were left secure to glut their gaze on 
their slain and wounded enemies; for many of the nobles on 
whom the beams and rafters fell were killed upon the spot. 
That the crime rested with Dunstan alone, we cannot believe — 
many must have been cognisant of it; the strength of the council 
was against the primate, and but for this accident, miracle, or, 
as we believe, carefully-planned scheme of villany, Dunstan's 
power would at once have ended; as it was, to quote the words 
of the old chronicler, " this miracle gave peace to the archbishop." 
When his friend Athelwold died, and the see of Winchester was 
vacant, Dunstan wished to appoint his friend Elphegus to the 
bishopric; but meeting with some opposition amongst the nobles, 
he boldly asserted that St. Andrew had appeared to him, and 
commanded him to appoint his friend to the vacant see. Here 
we have another proof of the use which Dunstan made of the 
sanctity that was attributed to his character. The miracles which 
are ascribed to him — his combats with the devil, who was con- 
stantly appearing to him in every imaginable shape, such as 
that of a bear, a dog, a viper, and a wolf, may be found fully 
recorded in the ancient life, written by Bridfirth, who was per- 
sonally acquainted with Dunstan.* We have dwelt thus 
lengthily on the life of this singular and ambitious man, as in it 
we see fully illustrated the evil consequence of persecuting and 
retarding the progress of superior talent, It is probable that no 
one ever set out in the world with a firmer determination of 
acting honestly and uprightly than Dunstan; it is also clear, 
that in intellectual attainments he ranked amongst the highest 
which that age produced; nor do we think that we should be 
much in error in assuming that when, in his old age, he looked 
back, through the dim vista of years, to the bright and promising 
morning of his life, he often sighed for that retirement which he 
might have enjoyed in the society of her whom his heart first 
clung to; nor can we marvel if the crimes which are attributed 
to him are true, which is strongly supported by the evidence we 
have produced, that in his old age his slumber was often broken 
by such fearful apparitions — the creation of a guilty conscience, 
as his friend and biographer Bridfirth has stated were ever 
present before his diseased imagination. 

* At page 277 of Turner's " Anglo-Saxons," vol. ii., is the commencement 
of a long and valuable note on the ancient lives of St. Dunstan, which are still 
extant. 



EDWARD THE MARTYR. 237 

Dunstan still stood high in the favour of his youthful sovereign, 
and the primate shielded him, for a time, from the vengeance 
of Elfrida, who aimed at placing the crown upon the head of 
her son Ethelred; to accomplish this, a conspiracy had been 
formed to assassinate Edward, in which the governor of Mercia, 
who had driven out the clergy, is said to have leagued himself 
with the queen-dowager; for party-feeling still raged as strongly 
on the sides of the monks and the secular clergy as ever; and 
aged as Dunstan was, there yet remained many enemies, who 
anxiously sought his overthrow; but the nobles continued to 
remain true to their king, and, while they surrounded him, he 
was safe from the meditated blow. 

The long looked for hour came at last. Edward was out, one 
day, hunting near Wareham, in Dorsetshire, when, either having 
outridden his attendants, or purposely resolved to visit his 
mother-in-law, he rode up to Corfe Castle, where she resided 
with her son Ethelred, and without alighting from his horse, had 
a brief interview with Elfrida, at the gate. She received him 
with an assumed kindness, and urgently pressed him to dis- 
mount. This he declined doing, and having requested to see his 
brother Ethelred, he called for a cup of wine, which was brought, 
when, just as he had raised it to his lips, one of Elfrida's attend- 
ants stepped behind him, and stabbed him in the back. Dropping 
the cup from his hand, he struck the spurs into his horse, and 
fled; for we can readily imagine that one glance at the counte- 
nance of Elfrida satisfied the wounded monarch that she was the 
instigator of the murderous deed. With no one near to follow 
or support him, he soon fainted through loss of blood, and fell 
from his saddle; the affrighted steed still plunged onward, with 
headlong speed, dragging the body of the king along, over the 
rugged road, as he still hung with his foot suspended in the 
stirrup. When discovered by his attendants, he was dead — his 
course was traced by the beaten ground over which his mangled 
body had passed, and the blood that had stained the bladed grass, 
and left its crimson trail upon the knotted stems against which 
it had struck. His remains were burnt, and there is some 
doubt whether even his ashes were preserved for interment. 
*'No worse deed," says the Saxon chronicle, "had been com- 
mitted among the people of the Anglo-Saxons since they first 
came to the land of Britain." Edward was not more than 
eighteen years of age when he was murdered. 



238 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

His death, however, was not the first that Elfrida had caused. 
In the records of Ely, mention is made of an abbot named 
Brythonod, who attracted her attention as he came to the palace 
on matters connected with his abbey. As he was about to take 
his departure, Elfrida requested to speak with him apart, under 
the plea of unburthening her conscience. What passed at this 
private interview would probably never have been known, but 
through her own confession, when she became a penitent, and 
acknowledged her guilt. She made such proposals to the abbot 
as he was unwilling to concede to. Her fondness soon changed 
to revenge, and shortly after the virtuous abbot was assassinated. 
Such was the woman who comes heaving up, like a blood-stained 
shadow, into the next reign, and whose evil influence brought 
such woe upon England. It is said that Ethelred wept bitterly 
at the death of his brother Edward, whom he dearly loved, and 
that his mother seized either a torch or a thick wax candle, and 
beat the young prince with it until he was senseless. So un- 
popular were Elfrida and her son, that an attempt was made to 
raise an illegitimate daughter of Edgar to the throne. The 
young lady was the daughter of Wulfreda, whom he had violently 
carried from the nunnery of Wilton. The plot failed, and 
Ethelred succeeded to the crown, in 978, and in the tenth year 
of his age. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

ETHELRED THE UNEEADY. 

" And when they talk of him, they shake their heads, 
And whisper one another in the ear ; 
And he that speaks, doth gripe the hearer's wrist; 
While he that hears, makes fearful action, 
With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes." 

Shakspebb. 

The ambitious hopes of Elfrida were justly doomed to meet 
with disappointment: the power she sought to obtain by the 
assassination of Edward eluded her grasp, and Dunstan, though 
aged and infirm, still stood at the head of his party, triumphant 



ETHELRED THE UNREADY, 239 

The Saxons looked with disgust upon a woman who had caused 
her son-in-law to be stabbed at her own castle-gate; and there 
is but little doubt that the primate, for a time, so successfully 
raised the popular indignation against her, that she was com- 
pelled to seek shelter in a nunnery until the storm subsided. 
On the head of the son of the murderess, the primate placed the 
crown, in 978; and it is recorded that, instead of pronouncing 
a blessing upon it, the stern churchman gave utterance to a bitter 
malediction, foreboding that a reign which was begun with 
bloodshed and murder, could only end in sorrow, suffering, and 
dishonourable humiliation. Ethelred possessed not those quali- 
ties which, by their sterling worth, weigh down all unpopular 
opinion; where the darkness had once settled, it remained; for 
lie illuminated it not by the brilliant achievement of glorious 
deeds. In the eyes of the Saxon nation the blood of Alfred 
was at last contaminated; the wisdom which had so long 
governed England peaceably, had waned away; and the arm 
which had struck terror into the hearts of five nations on the 
field of Brunanburg, was now weak and powerless; for the 
throne of England was at last occupied by the child of a mur- 
deress, whom Dunstan, from his apparent apathy, had already 
nick -named " The Unready." 

England had long been rent asunder by civil dissensions, 
which the accession of Ethelred only tended to increase instead 
of assuaging: the sceptre had before-time fallen into young and 
helpless hands without diminishing the kingdom's strength, 
but there were then none of those private heart-burnings to 
contend against; none of that party bitterness which divided 
family against family, for the state was supported by the united 
strength of its nobles, and its councils swayed by a feeling of 
union and harmony. It was not the monks and the secular 
clergy that this long contention alone affected; almost every 
town and village was divided against itself, for the quarrel ex- 
tended to the domestic hearth. Dunstan could not drive a 
married priest from the church without making enemies of the 
whole family: there was the insulted wife as well as the hus- 
band to appease; then came a wide circle of relations and 
friends, while, on the part of the monks, no such extensive 
ramifications were arrayed. Thousands were therefore found 
ready to overthrow a government which was headed by the 
primate. 



240 History of England. 

Such internal dissensions as these could not pass unnoticed by 
the Danes, who were ever on the alert to shake off the Saxon 
yoke when an opportunity presented itself; and rumours of 
the discords which reigned in England were soon blown over 
the Baltic; and many an anxious eye began to look out over 
the sea for succour; for the northmen had long pined for a king 
of their own nation to reign over the territory which they occu- 
pied in England. Dunstan, who had lent his powerful aid in 
supporting the sceptre throughout three reigns, had, by this 
time, grown old, and feeble, and helpless; Elfrida had weak- 
ened the power she once possessed, by the very means she took 
to strengthen it; and two years after the accession of Ethelred, 
Danish ships again began to appear, and pour out their pirates 
to ravage as of old, and spread terror along the English coasts, 
for the tidings soon reached the rocky shores of Norway, 
that there was no longer the wisdom of an Alfred to guide the 
government, nor the arm of an Athelstan to protect the English 
throne. While, to add to this state of disunion and broken 
government, it is believed many of the influential Saxons were 
in league with the Danes, and covertly encouraged the new 
invaders. 

Passing over the minor invasions, which first consisted of 
seven ships, and then of three, and of the trifling engagements 
w T hich succeeded, and in which the Saxons were at one time 
defeated, and at another victorious, we shall commence with the 
first formidable force, which was commanded by Justin and 
Gurthmund, and which was opposed by a strong Saxon 
force, headed by Byrhtnoth, the governor of Essex. The 
sea-kings first sent a herald to the Saxon court, demanding 
tribute; the Saxon nobleman raised his buckler, and, looking 
sternly at the messenger while he shook his javelin in his face, 
exclaimed — " Herald of the men of the ocean, hear from my 
lips the answer of this people to thy message. Instead of tri- 
bute, they will bestow on you their weapons, the edge of their 
spears, their ancient swords, and the weight of their arms. 
Hear me, mariner, and carry back my message of high indigna- 
tion in return. Say, that a Saxon earl, with his retainers, here 
stands undaunted; that he will defend unto death this land, the 
domain of my sovereign, Ethelred, his people, and his territory. 
Tell the Vikingrs that I shall think it but dastardly if they 
retire to their ships with the booty, without joining in battle, 



ETHELRED THE UNREADY. 241 

since they have advanced thus far into our land." A river 
divided the hostile forces, and the Saxon earl allowed the in- 
vaders a free passage across it unmolested, before the battle 
commenced. One of the sea-kings fell early in the conflict; 
Bryhtnoth selected the other for his opponent, and the bold 
Vikingr accepted the challenge. The first javelin which the 
sea-king hurled, slightly wounded the Saxon leader; Bryhtnoth 
then struck the sea-king with his spear, but the Dane " so 
manoeuvred with his shield, that the shaft broke, and the spear 
sprang back and recoiled." The next blow struck by the Saxon 
earl pierced the ringed chains of the sea-king's armour, and 
the pointed weapon stuck in his heart. The Dane had no 
sooner fallen, than the Saxon was struck by a dart: a youth, 
named Wulfmor, " a boy in the field," who appears to have 
been the earl's page, or armour-bearer, with his own hand drew 
out the javelin which had transfixed the body of Bryhtnoth, 
and hurled it back at the Dane who had just launched it, with 
such force, and so sure an aim, that it struck him, and he fell 
dead. The Saxon earl was already staggering through loss of 
blood, when one of the pirates approached him, with the intent 
of plundering him of " his gems, his vestment, his ring, and his 
ornamental sword." But Bryhtnoth had still strength enough 
left to uplift his heavy battle-axe, " broad and brown of edge," 
and to strike such a blow on the corslet of the Dane, that it 
compelled him to loose his hold. After this he fell, covered 
with wounds, but uttering his commands to the last moment. 
Although the battle was continued for some time after his death, 
the Saxons were defeated. 

Turn we now to Ethelred. While here and there a Saxon 
chief was found bold enough to make head, like Bryhtnoth, 
against the invaders, the dastardly sovereign assembled his 
witena-gemot, to consult as to what amount of tribute should 
be paid to the invaders, to induce them to abandon the island. 
Siric, the successor of Dunstan, is said to have been the first 
who proposed this cowardly measure. Had the old primate 
been alive, with all his faults, he would have seen Eng- 
land drenched with Saxon blood, and been foremost in the 
ranks to have spilt his own, ere he would have seen his country 
degraded by such an unmanly concession. Ten thousand pounds 
was the digraceful grant paid to purchase a temporary peace 
with the Danes. The invaders received their money, departed, 

R 



242 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. 

and speedily returned with a greater force to demand a larger 
sum. The northmen found no lack of allies in a land where 
their countrymen had so long been located, who, shaking off their 
allegiance to England, flew eagerly to arms, and joined the 
new-comers. 

But the old Saxon spirit was not yet wholly extinct. There 
was still remaining amongst the nobles a few who were resolved 
not to be plundered with impunity. With great effort they at 
last succeeded in arousing the lethargic king; and by his com- 
mand, a few strong ships were built at London, and filled with 
chosen soldiers; and to Alfric, the governor of Mercia, was en- 
trusted the guidance of the Saxon fleet. His first orders were 
to sail round the southern coast, and to attack the Danes at 
some particular port, in which they could easily be surrounded. 
A duke and two bishops were also joined with him in the com- 
mand. Alfric turned traitor, communicated to the Danes the 
meditated mode of attack, then carried with him what force he 
could in the night, and secretly joined the invaders. The rest 
of the fleet remained true to their unworthy king, and honestly 
executed their duty; although, through the frustration of their 
able plans, they found the Danish ships in full flight, and at 
first were only able to capture one of the enemy's vessels. But 
that courage and perseverance which have so long distinguished 
the English navy, were, even in this early age, frequently evinced; 
and before the Danish ships were able to regain a safe harbour, 
many of them were captured by the Saxons, and, amongst the 
rest, were those which the traitor Alfric had carried over to the 
enemy; he, however, contrived to escape; and Ethelred,— who 
had been trained in the barbarous school of Elfrida, — to avenge 
the crimes committed by Alfric, ordered the eyes of his son, 
Algar, to be put out. The next attack was made upon Lincoln- 
shire, but the command of the Saxons was again entrusted to 
three chiefs of Danish origin, who appear to have crossed over, 
and joined their countrymen at the commencement of the 
battle. 

It was in the spring of 994 that a formidable fleet entered the 
Thames, consisting of nearly a hundred ships, and commanded 
by Olaf, king of Norway, and Swein, king of Denmark. On 
first landing, they took formal possession of England, according 
to an ancient custom of their country, by first planting one 
lance upon the shore, and throwing another into the river 



ETHELRED THE UNREADY, 243 

they had crossed. Although some resistance was offered, and 
they were compelled to abandon their original plan of plun- 
dering London, they were enabled to over-run Essex and Kent; 
and satisfied with the plunder they obtained in these coun- 
ties, they next turned their arms successfully against Sussex 
and Hampshire, and in none of these places did they meet with, 
opposition of sufficient importance to draw forth a word of com- 
ment from the ancient chroniclers — a strong proof of the dis- 
affection that must have reigned amongst the Saxons, and of the 
unpopularity of Ethelred's government. 

Instead of arming in the defence of his kingdom, Ethelred 
again had recourse to his exchequer, and despatched messengers 
to know the terms the Danes demanded for a cessation of hos- 
tilities. Sixteen thousand pounds (though some of our early 
historians have named a much larger sum) was the price the 
northern kings now claimed for the purchase of peace. It was 
paid ; and the king of Norway, after having received hostages 
for his safety, paid a visit to the Saxon court. While he was 
Ethelred's guest he was baptized, and, as it appears, not for the 
first time, for the sea-kings cared but little lor changing their 
creed, when rich presents accompanied the persuasions of the 
Christian bishops. But whether Olaf departed a pagan or a 
Christian, he solemnly promised never more to invade England, 
and religiously kept his word. 

After the lapse of about three years, Swein, king of Den- 
mark, again resumed his hostilities. Wessex, Wales, Cornwall, 
and Devonshire, were this time ravaged. The monastery of 
Tavistock was destroyed, and although laden with plunder, so 
little dread had the Danes of the Saxons that they boldly took 
up their quarters for the winter in the island. It is true they 
were not allowed to carry on their work of destruction without 
molestation; but no sooner was an attack planned and a battle 
arranged, than either treason or accident overthrew or checked 
the operation. A spirit of disaffection reigned amongst the 
people. That earnestness of purpose, and determined valour, 
which had hitherto so strongly marked the Saxon character 
seemed all but to have died out. As for Ethelred, though like 
his mother, handsome in features, and tall of stature, he had 
neither the abilities to figure in the field nor the cabinet. William 
of Malmesbury pictured his character in three words, when he 
called him a " fine sleeping figure." While Swein was engaged 

r2 



244 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. 

in a war with Olaf of Norway, another army of Danes landed 
in England, though under what leader has not transpired. At 
every new invasion the Danes rose in their demands, and this 
time their forbearance was purchased by the enormous sum of 
twenty-four thousand pounds. 

We now arrive at one of the darkest pages of English history 
— a massacre which throws into shade the sanguinary slaughter 
committed by the command of Hengist, at Stonehenge. By what 
means this vast conspiracy was formed is not clearly stated, 
although it is on record that letters were sent secretly from the 
king to every city and town in England, commanding all the 
Saxon people throughout the British dominions to rise on the 
same day, and at the same hour, to slaughter the Danes. On 
the da}' that ushered in the feast of St. Brice, in the year 
1002, this cruel command was executed, though we trust 
that there is some exaggeration in the accounts given by 
the ancient chroniclers, which state, that all the Danish families 
scattered throughout England; husbands, wives, children, down 
to the smiling infant that pressed the nipple with " its bone- 
less gums," were, within the space of one brief hour, mer- 
cilessly butchered. Even Gunhilda, the sister of Swein, the 
Danish king, who had married a Saxon earl, and become a 
Christian, was not saved from the inhuman massacre; and her 
boy, though the son of a Saxon nobleman, was first slain before 
her face, ere she herself was beheaded. For nearly five 
generations had the Danes been settled down in England; yet 
we fear this dreadful order spared not those whose forefathers 
had been born on the soil. Through the eye of imagination we 
look with horror upon such a scene. We picture near neigh- 
bours who had lived together for years — who had, when chil- 
dren, played together — who had grown up and intermarried; — 
we picture the wife rising up against the husband, the father 
slaying his son-in-law; for neither guest, friend, nor relation 
appear to have been spared. The insolence, and excess, and 
brutality of the Danish soldiers formed no excuse for the 
slaughter of the more peaceable inhabitants who had so long 
been allowed to occupy the land, and had become naturalized 
to the soil. Pomp and grandeur, and military array, to a certain 
extent, disguise the horrors of war, though they lessen not the 
effect such scenes produce upon a sensitive mind: but here 
there was nothing to conceal cold-blooded and naked murder 



ETHELRED THE UNREADY. 245 

from the open eye of day. But Swein is already at the head of 
his fleet, riding over the billows, and to him we will now turn, as 
he stands upon the deck of his vessel, breathing vengeance 
against the Saxons. 

The army which Swein led on is said to have consisted of 
only the bravest and noblest soldiers. There was not a slave, 
nor a freed man, nor an old man amongst the number. The 
ships in which they were embarked rose long and high above the- 
waters, and on the stem of each was engraven the same figure 
as that which was wrought upon the banner of its commander. 
The vessel which bore the king of Denmark was called the Great 
Sea Dragon : it was built in the shape of a serpent, the prow 
curving, and forming the arched neck and fanged head of the 
reptile, while over the stern of the ship hung the twisted folds 
which resembled its tail. On the heads of others were sem- 
blances of maned bulls and twined dolphins, and grim figures of 
armed men, formed of gilt and burnished copper, which flashed 
back the rays of sunlight, and left trails, like glittering gold, 
upon the waves. When they landed, they unfurled a mysterious 
flag of white silk, in the centre of which was embroidered a 
black raven, with open beak, and outstretched wings, as if in 
the act of seizing upon its prey. This banner, to secure victory, 
according to the Scandinavian superstition, had been worked 
by the hands of Swein's three sisters in one night, while they 
accompanied the labour with magic songs and wild gestures. 
Such was the formidable array which, in the spring of 1003, 
approached the shores of England. 

When the Danes landed, they seized upon all the horses they 
could meet with, and thus formed a strong body of cavalry; 
they then attacked Exeter, slew many of the inhabitants, and 
plundered the city. The county of Wilts was next ravaged, 
and savagely did Swein avenge the murder of his countrymen. 
Castles and towns were taken in rapid succession, and wherever 
they passed, they left behind them desolating traces of fire and 
sword. When they were met by the Saxon army, the leader 
Alfric feigned illness, and declined the contest; thus, without 
scarcely a -blow having been struck by the English, the Danes 
ravaged and plundered the country, and slew thousands of the 
inhabitants; then escaped in safety with the spoil, and regained 
their ships, leaving behind them a land of mourning, which a 
grievous famine was now also afflicting, 



246 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

In the following year, Swein returned to England with 
his fleet, and destroyed Norwich. Some slight opposition was 
offered to him by the East Anglians, but it was not sufficient to 
prevent him from reaching his ships, and escaping, as usual, 
with the plunder. Turketul, who had an interview with Swein, 
drew the following vivid picture of the miseries of England at 
this period. " We possess," said he, " a country illustrious and 
powerful; a king asleep, solicitous only about women and wine, 
and trembling at war; hated by his people, and derided by 
strangers. Generals, envious of each other; and weak governors, 
ready to fly at the first shout of battle." 

In 1006, the Danes again appeared, and this time they re- 
ceived thirty- six thousand pounds to forbear their hostilities* 
They, however, attacked Canterbury, and made Elfeg, the arch- 
bishop, prisoner. He was secured with chains, and removed 
from one encampment to another; for they believed him to be 
rich, and were resolved not to part with him, unless he first 
paid a heavy ransom. The price they fixed upon was three 
thousand gold pieces. " I have no money of my own," said the 
archbishop, "and am resolved not to deprive my ecclesiastical 
territory of a single penny on my account." It was in vain 
that the Danes urged him, day after day, to raise a ransom. The 
archbishop was firm, and said, " I will not rob my poor people 
of that which they have need of for their sustenance." One day, 
when they had been drinking freely, the primate was brought 
before the Danish chiefs for pastime, bound, and seated upon a 
lean, meagre-looking horse. In this pitiable plight, he was led 
into the centre of the enemy's encampment, in which was 
placed a huge circle of stones, and on these the sea-kings and 
their followers were seated. Around them were scattered heaps 
of bones of oxen, the remains of their rude repast. Some of 
the chiefs sat with their drinking-horns in their hands, others 
resting idly with their hands on the hilts of their swords and 
battle-axes. As soon as the primate appeared in the circle, 
they raised a loud shout, and exclaimed: " Give us gold, bishop — 
give us gold ! or we will compel thee to play such a game as 
shall be talked of throughout the whole world." Elfeg calmly 
answered : " I have but the gold of wisdom to offer you; receive 
that, and abandon your superstitions, and become converts to the 
true God." The drunken chiefs, considering this as an insult to 
their religion, hastily rose up from their mock tribunal, and, 



ETHELRED THE UNREADY, 247 

seizing upon the legs and thigh bones of the oxen which they had 
been devouring, they beat him until he fell prostrate upon the 
ground. He endeavoured in vain to kneel, and offer up a last 
prayer, but sank forward, through weakness; when a Danish 
soldier, whom he had formerly baptized, stepped forward, and 
dealt him a heavy blow on the skull with his battle-axe, and ter- 
minated his sufferings. The body of the murdered bishop was 
purchased by the Saxons, and earned to London, where it was 
buried.* 

The next method which Ethelred had recourse to, was to lay 
an oppressive tax upon the land; every 310 hides of land was 
assessed to build one vessel, and every eight hides to furnish a 
helmet and breastplate. Thus a naval force was raised which 
consisted of seven hundred and eighty-five ships, together with 
armour for 30,450 men. This fleet assembled at Sandwich. 
But treason and misfortune seem now to have dogged every step 
which the Saxons took. Wulfnoth, who was appointed one of 
the commanders, carried off twenty ships, and set up pirate. 
Brihtric, another leader, pursued him w r ith eighty vessels, part 
of which the tempest wrecked, while the remainder fell into the 
hands of the traitor and pirate, Wulfnoth, and he burnt them. 
Such events as these extinguished the last ray of hope that 
dimly gleamed upon the disheartened Saxons. The Danes had 
now only to command and receive. Sixteen counties were at 
at once given up to them, together with the sum of £48,000. 
Ethelred was now king of only a portion of England; every day 
the people began to secede from him, and to shelter themselves 
under the sovereignty of the king of Denmark* It would only 
be a dry and wearisome catalogue of names, to run over the roll 
of cities, as they one after another, opened their gates to the 
Danish king. London remained faithful to the last, and it was 
not until Ethelred fled to the isle of Wight, and afterwards to 
Normandy, where he was kindly received by the duke, whose 
daughter he had married, that the metropolis of England acknow- 
ledged Swein as its sovereign, for the Saxons had at last become 
weary of being plundered by the Danes, and of the oppressive 
taxes which they had been constantly called upon to pay to their 
own king; so that they sat down sternly with folded arms, under a 

* Thierry's Norman Conquest. European Library edition. Vol. I. pages 82 
and 83. 



248 HISTORY OF ENGLAND* 

new sovereignty, conscious that it could not be worse than the" 
old. Swein, however, did not survive long to wear his regal 
honours, but died the year after his elevation to the English 
throne. Where the ancient town of Gainsborough looks down 
upon the silver Trent, that goes murmuring for miles through 
the still wild marshes of Lincolnshire, did Swein, the king of 
Denmark and of England, breathe his last; and a majestic pile of 
ruins, yet in parts inhabited, stands upon the site of the Mer- 
cian castle in which he died. After the death of Swein, the 
Danish population of England chose his son Canute, or Knut, as 
their sovereign ; while the Saxon nobles sent messengers over to 
[Normandy, offering to restore the crown to Ethelred, if he 
would " govern them more righteously than he had done before." 
The king dispatched his son Edmund with the necessary pledges, 
demanding in return that they should hold every Danish king 
an outlaw, who should declare himself monarch of England; to 
this they consented, and having pledged himself " to amend all 
that had been complained of," Ethelred, the Unready, returned 
to England. 

Canute was, however, resolved to maintain the crown which 
his father had won, and in order to intimidate the Saxons, he 
landed at Sandwich the hostages which Swein had received 
from the English as pledges of their good faith and submission, 
after having cruelly cut their hands and faces; these chiefly con- 
sisted of the sons of the Saxon nobility — a savage retaliation for 
the Danish massacre which Ethelred had authorized. 

Following the policy adopted by Athelstan, Ethelred now 
made an oifer of high rewards to every warrior, of whatever 
country, who chose to come and fight under the Saxon standard 
— many came, and amongst the number, Olave, a celebrated 
Vikingr, who afterwards obtained the crown of Norway. Canute 
also secured the aid of one of the Norwegian earls, named Eric. 

Edmund, surnamed Ironsides, who was the illegitimate son of 
Ethelred, now began to distinguish himself by his opposition to 
the Danish king, and to him the Saxons already looked up as a 
deliverer, even before his father died, which event took place at 
the close of the year 1016. As the struggles between the 
English and the Danes were carried on with great vigour by 
Edmund Ironside and Canute, they become matter of history 
which are connected with the next brief reign. 

We find a gloomy picture of the miserable state of England, 



ETHELRED THE UNREADY. 249 

during the sovereignty of Ethelred, in the following complaint 
made by a Saxon bishop who was living at the period: " We per- 
petually pay the Danes tribute," says this old divine, " and they 
ravage us daily. They burn, spoil, and plunder, and carry otF 
our property to their ships. Such is their successful valour, 
that one of them will in battle, put ten of our men to flight. 
Two or three will drive a troop of captive Christians through, 
the country, from sea to sea. Very often they seize the wives 
and daughters of our thanes, and cruelly violate them before the 
great chieftain's face. The slave of yesterday becomes the 
master of his lord to-day, or he abandons his master, flies to the 
sea-kings, and seeks his owner's life in the first battle that is 
waged against us. Soldiers, famine, flames, and effusion of 
blood, are found on every side. Theft and murder, pestilences, 
diseases, calumny, hatred, and rapine, dreadfully afflict us. 
Widows are frequently compelled into unjust marriages; many 
are reduced to penury and are pillaged. The poor men are sorely 
seduced, and cruelly betrayed, and though innocent, are sold far 
out of this land to foreign slavery. Cradle-children are made 
slaves out of this nation, through, an atrocious violation of the 
law for little stealings. The right of freedom is taken away; 
the rights of the servile are narrowed, and the right of charity is 
diminished. Freemen may not govern themselves, nor go where 
they wish, nor possess their own as they like. Slaves are not 
suffered to enjoy what they have obtained from their allowed 
leisure, nor what good men have benevolently given for them. 
The clergy are robbed of their franchises, and stripped of all 
their comforts."* Such was England at the period when the 
sceptre was all but wrested from the descendants of Alfred, and 
about to be wielded by the hand of a Danish king. At the last 
struggle which was made to retain it, before the Saxon glory 
was for a time eclipsed, we have now arrived. 

* Turner's Anglo-Saxon, page 325, vol. ii. Edition, 1833. 



250 
CHAPTER XXXI. 

EDMUND, SUENAMED IEONSIDE. 

"His death, whose spirit lent a fire 
Even to the dullest peasant in his camp, 
Being bruited once, took fire and heat away 
From the best tempered courage in his troops: 
For from his metal was his party steeled; 
Which, once in him abated, all the rest 
Turned on themselves, like dull and heavy lead." 

Shakspere. 

Edmund, who, for his valour and hardy constitution, was 
surnamed Ironside, had already distinguished himself against 
the Danes, and shown signs of promise, which foretold that, 
whenever the sceptre fell into his hand, it would be ably 
wielded. Like those meteoric brilliancies which startle us by 
their sudden splendour, then instantly depart, so was his career 
< — bright, beautiful, and brief. We perceive a trailing glory 
along the sky over which he passed, but no steady burning of 
the star that left it behind. Had he ascended the throne at a 
peaceful and prosperous period, he might probably have dozed 
away his days in apathy; for he was one of those spirits born to 
blaze upon the fiery front of danger, and either speedily to con- 
sume, or be consumed. He began by measuring his stature 
against a giant, and raised himself so high by his valiant de- 
portment, that had a little longer time been allowed him to 
develope his growth, he would have overtopped the great 
Canute, by whose side he stood. 

He had scarcely leisure to put off the mourning which he had 
worn at his father's funeral, before he was compelled to arm in 
defence of the capital of the kingdom; for the Danish forces, 
headed by Canute, had already laid siege to London, and nearly 
the half of England was at that period in the possession of his 
enemies. The struggle to carry the capital was maintained 
with great spirit by the besiegers, and as bravely repelled by 
the besieged; and the wall which then ran along the whole front 
of the city, beside the Thames, was the scene of many a valorous 
exploit. A bridge, even at this early period, stretched over 
into Southwark, and on the Surrey side it was stoutly defended 



Et)MUND, SURNAME!) IRONSIDE 251 

by the enemy, who for a long time held the Saxons at bay; for 
they were strengthened by the ships which Canute had brought 
up from Greenwich, and placed on the west side of the bridge; 
thus cutting off all aid from the river; while he left a part of his 
fleet below, to guard against surprise from the mouth of the 
Thames. London was so strongly protected by its fortresses and 
citizens, that Edmund was enabled to remove a great portion of 
his army, and to fight two battles in the provinces during the 
time it was besieged. 

The most important of these was his engagement at Scear- 
stan, where he addressed his soldiers before commencing the 
battle, and so kindled their valour by his eloquence, that at the 
first onset, which was sounded by the braying of the trumpets, 
the Danish soldiers staggered as if the weight of a mighty 
avalanche had come thundering down amongst them. Edmund 
himself fought amid the foremost ranks — there was no sword 
that went deeper into the advanced line of the enemy than his 
own — no arm that made such bleeding gaps as the sovereign's. 
He seemed as if present in almost every part of the field at 
once — wherever his eager eye caught a wavering motion in the 
ranks, there he was seen to rally, and cheer them on. Eclric, 
who had long been in the service of Ethelred, fought on the side 
of Canute, and by his influence arrayed the men of Wiltshire 
and Somerset against Edmund. So obstinately was the battle 
maintained on both sides, that neither party could claim the 
victory when night settled down upon the hard-fought field. 

The dawn of a summer morning saw the combat renewed. 
While yet the silver dew hung pure and rounded upon the 
blood-stained grass, the Saxon trumpets sounded the charge. 
Foremost as ever in the conflict, Edmund fought his way into 
the very thickest of the strife, until he found himself face to 
face with Canute. The first blow which the Saxon king aimed 
at his enemy, Canute received upon his shield : it was cloven 
asunder; and with such force had the sword of Edmund de- 
scended, that after severing the buckler, the edge of the weapon 
went deep into the neck of the horse which the Danish king 
bestrode. The English monarch still stood alone amid a crowd 
of Danes, making such destructive circles with his two-handed 
sword, that no one dared approach him. After having slightly 
wounded Canute, and slain several of his choicest warriors, 
Edmund was compelled to fall back amongst his own soldiers, 
whom he now found in retreat and confusion. 



252 HISTORY OF ENGLAND, 

While Edmund was thus busily engaged in the very heart of 
the battle, the traitor Edric had struck off the head of a soldier, 
named Osmear, whose countenance closely resembled that of the 
king, and holding it by the hair, he had ridden rapidly along 
the Saxon lines, exclaiming: "Fly! fly! and save yourselves — 
behold the head of your king." Edmund had just succeeded in 
fighting his way through the Danish ranks, when he beheld the 
panic which Edric had spread amongst the soldiers — his first act 
was to seize a spear and hurl it at the traitor — he stooped, missed 
the blow, and the weapon pierced two soldiers who stood near 
him. Edmund then threw down his helmet, and taking the 
advantage of a rising ground, stood up bareheaded, and called 
upon his warriors to renew the combat; but many were already 
beyond hearing. It was now near sunset, for the conflict had 
lasted all day long, and those who rallied around him were just 
sufficient to keep up the struggle without retreating, until dark- 
ness again dropped down upon the scene. So ended the second 
day, and neither side could claim the victory. Edmund again 
encamped upon the battle-field, for he had still sufficient faith in 
the force that remained with him to renew the contest in the 
morning. Day-dawn, however, revealed the departure of the 
Danes, and the Saxons found themselves alone, surrounded by 
the wounded and the dead; for Canute had taken advantage of 
the midnight darkness, and retreated from the field. The 
Danish king hurried off with his army to renew the siege of 
London; Edmund followed him, and drove the enemy as far as 
Brentford. Here another battle took place; and as we find 
Canute, soon after, once more beleaguering the capital, the advan- 
tages the Saxon king gained could only have been slight. 
Seeing that he could make no impression upon London, Canute 
next led his army into Mercia, where he appears to have met 
with but little opposition; he is said to have burnt every town 
he approached. At Otford, in Kent, Edmund once more 
attacked the Danish king, and drove him to Sheppey. Unfor- 
tunately, the Saxon sovereign had admitted Edric the traitor 
again into his friendship, and he betrayed him ; but for this, it is 
questionable if Canute could have maintained another attack. 

It was on the eve of one of these battles, in which the north- 
men were defeated, that a Danish chief, named Ulfr, who was 
hotly pursued by the Saxons, rushed into a wood, in the hurry 
of defeat, and lost his way. It was no uncommon hardship 



EDMUND, SURNAME© IRONSIDE. 253 

for a sea-king to throw himself at the foot of the nearest 
oak, pillow his head upon the root, and sleep soundly until the 
morning; he would only miss the murmur of the ocean, and, 
to make up for its lulling sound, would be saved the trouble of 
raising his hand every now and then to sweep off the salt spray 
that dashed over him. But the dawn of day found him no 
better off than the midnight; he would have known what course 
to have steered had he been out alone upon the open ocean, but 
in a forest, where one tree looked, in his eyes, just like another, 
he knew not on what tack to sail. After wandering about for 
some time, he met a Saxon peasant, who was driving home his 
oxen, at that early hour, for it was probably dangerous to allow 
them to be found in the forest after daylight, as the forest-laws 
w T ere already severe. The Danish chief first accosted the churl, 
by inquiring his name. " It is Godwin," answered the peasant; 
" and you are one of the Danes who were compelled yesterday 
to fly for your life." The sea-king acknowledged it was true, 
and asked the herdsman if he could guide him either to the 
Danish ships, or to where the army was encamped. " The Dane 
must be mad," answered Godwin, " who trusts to a Saxon for 
safety." Ulfr entreated this rude Gurthof the forest to point him out 
the way, at the same time urging his argument by presenting the 
herdsman with a massive gold ring, to win his favour. Godwin 
looked at the ring — it was probably the first time in his life he 
had ever seen so costly a treasure — and after having carefully 
examined it, he again placed it in the hand of the sea-king, and 
said, " I will not take this, but will show you the way." Ulfr 
spent the day at the herdsman's cottage; night came, and found 
Godwin in readiness to be his guide. The herdsman had an 
aged father, who, before he permitted his son to depart, thus 
addressed the Danish chief — " It is my only son whom I allow 
to accompany you; to your good faith I entrust him; for, re- 
member, that there will no longer be any safety for him 
amongst his countrymen, if it is once known that he has been 
your guide. Present him to your king, and entreat him to 
take my son into his service." Ulfr promised, and he kept his 
word, since there is no doubt that the young herdsman had 
gained upon his favour during the journey, for when the sea- 
king reached the Danish encampment, he took the peasant into 
his own tent, placed him upon a seat, (a great honour in those 
days,) which was as high as the one he himself occupied, and 



254 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

treated him as if he had been his own son. This humble cow- 
herd, who afterwards married the sea-king's sister, will, ere 
long, have to figure amongst the most prominent characters in 
our history, but we must leave him for a time, and follow the 
fortunes of the Saxon king, Edmund. 

After sustaining the alternations of victory and defeat — having 
been again betrayed by Edric, and making an offer to Canute 
to decide the fate of the kingdom by single combat, a challenge 
which the Danish king is generally believed to have declined — 
a treaty was entered into by the rival sovereigns, in which it 
was agreed that England should be divided between them. 
They then, to all appearance, became friends, exchanged gifts 
and garments, and the opposing armies for a time separated: 
Edmund to reign in the south, and Canute to be king of the 
north — the exact division of the kingdom is not recorded. It 
was, however, a hollow treaty on the part of the Dane, who is 
said afterwards to have rewarded every one who brought him the 
head of a Saxon. 

Edmund did not long survive this treaty; that he was assas- 
sinated, there remains not a doubt, but where, or by whose 
hand, is unknown. Two of his own chamberlains are said to 
have been bribed, by either Edric or Canute, to destroy him. 
His death took place in the year 1016. Unlike Ethelred, "he 
was long and deeply lamented by his people," though his reign 
was so short. With his death, all hopes of regaining the 
kingdom from the pow r er of the Danes seems, for a time, to 
have departed, and Canute was allowed to sit down upon the 
Saxon throne without opposition. More than five hundred 
years, with but few intervals of peace between, had elapsed since 
Hen gist and Horsa first landed in the Isle of Thanet; yet all 
the blood which during that long period had been spilt, had been 
insufficient to cement firmly together the foundation on which the 
tottering throne was erected. Neither the blood of Britons, 
Eomans, Saxons, nor Danes, could extinguish the volcano which 
was ever bursting from beneath itj the cry that issued forth 
was still, "Give, give!" 



255 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

Canute the dane. 

" He doth bestride the world 
Like a Colossus : and we petty men 
"Walk under his huge legs, and peep about 
To find ourselves dishonourable graves." — Shakspeee. 

By the death of Edmund, Canute became king of all England, 
in the twentieth year of his age. Before his coronation took place, 
he assembled the Saxon nobles and bishops, and Danish chiefs 
in London, who had been witnesses to the treaty entered into 
between himself and Edmund, when the kingdom was divided; 
and either by intimidation, persuasion, or presents, succeeded 
in obtaining their unanimous assent to his succession to the 
crown. In return for this acknowledgment, he promised to 
act justly and righteously, and placed his bare hand upon the 
hands of his chiefs and nobles as a token of his sincerity. But 
in spite of these promises, the commencement of his reign was 
marked by acts of unnecessary severity and cruelty. Those who 
had been in any way related to either Ethelred or Edmund, he 
banished; and many who had taken a prominent part in the late 
struggles to support the Saxon monarchy, he put to death. 
He also decreed that Edwig, the half brother of Edward, should 
be slain. The late king had left two children, one of whom 
was named Edmund after himself, and the other Edward; 
Canute, with the approbation of the Saxon nobles, became 
their guardian; and no sooner were they placed within his 
power, than he meditated their destruction.; but a fear that his 
throne was not sufficiently established to prevent the Saxons 
from rising to revenge their death, caused him to postpone it; 
and under the plea of securing their safety, the children were 
committed to the charge of the king of Sweden; the messen- 
ger who accompanied them at the same time giving instructions 
that they were to be secretly killed. But the Swedish sove- 
reign was not willing to become a murderer at the bidding of 
Canute, and therefore committed the children to the care of the 
king of Hungary, by whom they were preserved and educated. 



256 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

Edmund died, but Edward lived to marry the daughter of the 
emperor of Germany, and from their union sprang Edgar 
Atheling, a name that afterwards figures in the pages of 
History. 

Edward and Alfred, the remaining sons of Ethelred, were 
still safe at the court of their uncle, Richard, duke of Normandy, 
with their mother, Emma, the dowager queen ; and scarcely 
was Canute seated upon the throne before the Norman duke 
despatched an embassy to the English court, demanding that 
the crown of England should be restored to his eldest nephew, 
Emma, it will • be remembered, was herself a Norman, and 
although she became the -wife of Ethelred, her sympathies never 
seem to have leaned much on the side of the Saxons. As early 
as the time of the invasion of Swein, she had fled to her 
brother's court with her children, nor does it appear that she 
returned with her husband, Ethelred, when he was rein- 
stated upon the throne. Whether the proposition first ema- 
nated from Canute, or her brother, the Norman duke, is some- 
what uncertain; but whichever way it might be, it was soon 
followed up by the marriage of Emma, the widow of Ethelred, 
the dowager-queen of the Saxons, with Canute, the Danish 
king, and now the sole sovereign of England, The murdering, 
the banishing, the usurping Dane, became the husband of " The 
Flower of Normandy." After her union, it is said that she 
paid no regard to the Saxon princes whom she left at her 
brother's court, but, like an unnatural mother, abandoned 
them to chance; and that, as they grew up, they forgot even 
the language of their native country, and followed the habits 
and customs of the Normans, for Emma soon became the 
mother of a son by Canute, and disowned for ever her Saxon 
offspring. 

After his marriage with Emma, Canute disbanded the greater 
portion of his Danish troops, and reserving only forty of his 
native ships, sent back the remainder of his fleet to Denmark. 
Canute then chiefly confined his government to that part of the 
island which Alfred the Great had reigned over; for it is on 
record that he ever held in the highest veneration the memory 
of this celebrated king. He made Turketul, to whom he was 
greatly indebted for the subjection of England, governor of 
East Anglia. To Eric, the Norwegian prince, he gave the 
government of Northumbria, and to the traitor, Edric, Mercia. 



CANUTE THE DANE. 257 

Although he had in turn deserted Ethelred, Edmund, and even 
Canute himself, he entrusted to him the government of this 
kingdom. The traitor, however, was not allowed to retain the 
dignities of his new dukedom long: a quarrel is said to have taken 
place between him and Canute, in the palace which overlooked the 
Thames at London. Edric is said to have urged his claim to 
greater rewards, by exclaiming, in the heat of his passion, " I first 
deserted Edmund to. benefit you, and for you I killed him." 
Canute paced the apartment, angrily, coloured deeply, bit his lips, 
and while his eyes, which were always unnaturally fierce and 
bright, seemed to flash fire, he replied, " 'Tis fit, then, you should 
die, for your treason to God and me. You killed your own lord! 
him who by treaty and friendship was my brother! Your blood 
be upon your own head for murdering the Lord's anointed; your 
own lips bear witness against you." Such a sentence came but 
with an ill grace from one who had encouraged, countenanced, 
and rewarded villany; but Canute, though young, was a deep 
adept in the blackest arts of kingcraft. He either called in, or 
gave a secret signal to Eric, the Norwegian, who most likely 
was present at the interview; for, having killed one king, we 
should hardly think Canute considered himself safe, alone 
with a murderer; but be this as it may, Eric laid him lifeless 
with one blow from his battle-axe; and, without creating any 
disturbance in the palace, the body of Edric was thrown out of 
the window into the Thames. The old historians considerably 
differ in their descriptions of the manner of his death, though 
the majority agree that the deed was done in the palace at 
London. 

In 1019, so firmly had Canute established himself upon the 
throne of England, that he paid a visit to his native country of 
Denmark, where he passed the winter. But the government of 
England appears not to have been conducted to his satisfaction 
during his absence, for on his return he banished the duke 
Ethelwerd, whom he had left in a situation of great trust, and, 
shortly after, Turketul, the governor of East Anglia. A 
Swedish fleet, soon after this period, is said to have attacked 
the forces of Canute, and the victory, on the side of the English, 
is rumoured to have been owing to the valour of Godwin, who, 
at the close of the reign of Edmund, was a humble cowherd, but 
had, in the space of a few brief years, risen to the dignity of an 
earl. In his conflict with the Swedes, Ulfr, the patron of 

s 



258 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

Godwin, was instrumental in saving Canute's life. After this 
they quarrelled at a feast. It appears that they were amusing 
themselves with some game at the time, and that Ulfr, well 
acquainted with the natural irritability of the Dane's temper, 
had either retired, or was about to retreat, when Canute accused 
him of cowardice. Ulfr, ill-brooking an accusation which he 
seems never to have merited, angrily exclaimed, il Was I a 
coward when I rescued you from the fangs of the Swedish 
dogs?" As in the case of Edric, the Dane liked not to have 
those about him to whom he had been obliged; it was indif- 
ferent to him whether they did his work by valour or trea- 
chery; thus, shortly after, Ulfr was stabbed by the command of 
Canute, while performing his religious duties in a neighbouring 
church. 

He next turned his attention towards Norway, over which 
Eglaf, or St. Olave, as he has been called by some, now reigned. 
The Dane is said to have commenced his attack by corrupting 
the Norwegian subjects with presents of money. This done, 
he went boldly over, with a fleet of fifty ships, carrying with 
him many of the bravest of the Saxon nobles. From the 
preparations which he had made, and the formidable force 
with which he appeared, he was received with that apparent 
welcome which necessity is sometimes compelled to accord, 
and, wherever he approached, was hailed as "Lord." After 
having carried away with him as hostages the sons and relations 
of the principal Norwegian chiefs, he appointed Haco, the son 
of that Eric whose battle-axe was ever ready to do his bidding, 
governor of the kingdom. Haco returned to England for his 
wife, who was residing at the castle of his father, the governor 
of Northumbria, but a heavy storm coming on, he was unable 
to land. His ship was last seen looming in the evening sunset, 
off Caithness, in Scotland, while the wind was blowing heavily 
in the direction of Pentland Frith, but neither Haco, his crew, 
nor his ship, were ever beheld again, after the sun had sunk 
behind the billows. 

After this, Eglaf returned to the throne of Norway, and was 
put to death by the hands of his subjects for making laws and 
founding institutions which were calculated to accelerate the 
progress of learning and civilization. Norway, which had for 
centuries sent from its stormy shores such swarms of sea-kings 
and pirates, could not be brought to understand that they should 



CANUTE THE DANE. 259 

ever reap such benefits, if they changed their habits of rapine 
and robbery for those of honesty and industry, and the more 
rational pleasures of civilized life. They understood the laws 
of " strandhug," and they acknowledged no other. If they 
landed upon a hospitable shore, amongst a nation with whom 
they were at peace, and found their provisions growing short, 
they recruited their stock from the flocks and herds they saw 
grazing in the neighbouring pastures, paid whatever amount 
they pleased as the value of the animals they had slaughtered, 
carried off corn and drink under the same free-trade tariff; and 
sometimes, when remonstrated with on the smallness of the 
amount paid, settled the balance by the blow of a battle-axe. 

Although Canute was the son of a pagan, he became a 
zealous Christian, rebuilt many of the monasteries which his 
father had burnt, endowed others, and, either from a feeling of 
piety, or to ingratiate himself -with the Saxons, he erected a 
monument to Elfeg, the archbishop, at Canterbury, whose 
violent death had doubtless been accelerated by those very 
veterans who had assisted him in conquering the Saxons. 

Not content with honouring the murdered archbishop with a 
monument, he resolved that the body should be placed in the 
abbey which had witnessed the services of so pious a primate; 
so he demanded the body of the bishop from the inhabitants of 
London, who had purchased it from the Danes, and buried it in 
their own city. The Londoners, however, refused to deliver it 
up; when the Dane, mingling the old habits of the sea-king 
with his devotions, put on his helmet and breastpiece, placed 
himself at the head of his troops, carried off the coffin by force, 
and, between two long lines of his armed soldiers, that were 
drawn up on each side of the street which led from the church 
to the Thames, had the dead body of the archbishop borne to 
the war-ship, which stood ready to receive it. There is some- 
thing of magnificence in such an act of barbarous veneration as 
this, which was accomplished without either injury or blood- 
shed; and we can imagine that in every corner of the London of 
that day, nothing was talked of but the daring piety of Canute, 
which had led him to carry off the body of their reputed saint; 
that public opinion would be divided in the motives it attributed 
to such an act ; that little groups would assemble at the corners 
of the streets, and that long after twilight had settled down 
upon the old city, their conversation would still be about Canute 

s2 



260 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

and his soldiers, and the enormous war- ship, with its gilt- 
figure-head, that resembled a dragon, and the dead bishop 
it would carry away; then the city-gates would be closed, and 
over all would reign the ancient midnight silence and darkness, 
while the dragon-headed ship and the Danes went slowly down 
the silver Thames, freighted with the king, and the cofiin, and 
the murdered man. 

There appears, at a first glance, something incongruous in 
such an act as that of Canute's carrying off the dead body of 
the bishop by force, when it was done with the intent of 
making a favourable impression upon the Saxons; yet we must 
not forget the stout resistance made by the capital in the 
defence of Edmund, which the Danish king seems also to have 
borne in mind, when he exacted from the city the sum of eleven 
thousand pounds. 

Canute seems to have been a man in whom the elements of re- 
finement and barbarism, which our ancient writers love to dwell 
upon in their moral masks, were oddly blended; he was one 
who believed that cruelty was necessary in the administra- 
tion of justice, but looked with horror upon a deed that was com- 
mitted without the pale of this shadowy boundary. 

In a moment of unguarded passion, he with his own hand 
slew one of his soldiers; thereby committing a deed which, 
according to his own laws, the penalty was, in its mildest form, 
a heavy mulct. After reflecting upon the crime he was guilty 
of, and the evil example he was setting to others, he assembled 
his army, and, arrayed in his royal robes, descended from his 
gorgeous throne in the midst of the armed ranks; expressed his 
sorrow for the deed he had done, and demanded that he should 
be tried and punished like the humblest subject over whom he 
reigned. He further offered a free pardon to his judges, how- 
ever severe might be the judgment they passed upon him; then 
throwing himself prostrate upon the ground, in silence awaited 
their verdict. Many a hardy soldier, whose weather-beaten 
cheeks were seamed with the scars of battle, is said to have shed 
tears as he beheld the royal penitent thus prostrate at his 
feet. Those who were appointed judges retired for a few mo- 
ments to deliberate; but either believing that Canute was not 
sincere, or having the example of those before their eyes who 
had formerly done his bidding, they timidly resolved to allow 
him to appoint his own punishment. This he did, and as the 



CANUTE THE DANE. 261 

fine for killing a man was then forty talents of silver, he 
sentenced himself to pay three hundred and sixty, beside nine 
talents of gold. It would, perhaps, be uncharitable to say that 
the whole affair was a mere mockery; but when we remember 
that a word from his lips could wring a thousand times that 
amount from the oppressed Saxons, and that he himself had 
compelled them to pay heavier taxes than had ever been de- 
manded by their own native kings, we are surely justified in 
concluding, that after all, he acquitted himself on very moderate 
terms. 

During the ravages of the Danes, the tribute which the 
Saxons paid to Rome had been suspended. This Canute re- 
solved to revive; and, as if to make up for the ravages of his 
countrymen, the sea-kings, for the monks they had murdered, 
and the churches they had destroyed, he inflicted a tax of a 
penny on every inhabited house, which was called Peter's- 
pence; thus further punishing the poor Saxons, by levying a 
fine upon them "to the praise and glory of God," for so was the 
royal ordinance worded, that they might show their gratitude to 
mother church, through the hands of those who had been instru- 
mental in slaughtering their priests, overthrowing their altars, 
and desolating their land. In brief, it was the descendant of 
the murderer levying a tax upon the relatives of the murdered 
to purchase forgiveness for the slayer — one of those crooked 
paths by which, in that barbarous age, men hoped to reach 
Heaven. 

The plan he adopted to reprove his flattering courtiers displayed, 
at best, much unnecessary show. A man who, by his valour 
and abilities, had ascended a throne which had been occupied by 
a long line of kings, and although an open enemy, had compelled 
a powerful nation to acknowledge him as their sovereign — one 
who had himself ridden over the stormy sea, and been tossed 
like a weed from billow to billow, can never be supposed to have 
entertained the thought for a moment that the angry ocean with 
its rising tide would obey him, or roll back its restless waves 
when he commanded. It was the same love of display which 
caused him to erect the throne in the midst of his army, and. 
step forth in his royal robes, the haughty king, while he assumed 
the part of the humble penitent for having slain one of his 
soldiers. The same theatrical display which caused him to 
order his lumbering throne to be placed beside the sea-shore. 



262 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

and to sit down in all his kingly dignity, robed, crowned, and 
sceptered — the gilt and tinsel that are so effective beyond the 
footlights — induced him to adopt this stage effect; for Canute, 
in the dress of a common man, with his foot in the spray, 
would not have produced half that impression upon his audience, 
many of whom, we can readily imagine, must have felt disgusted 
at such useless parade. In a pompous manner, he is said to 
have thus addressed his courtiers: — " Confess ye now how 
frivolous and vain is the might of an earthly king compared to 
that Great Power who rules the elements, and can say unto the 
ocean, < Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther.'" We should 
not probably err much if, instead of the words uttered by the 
Danish king, something like the following was the real language 
of his inward thought, and that, as he looked sternly upon them, 
he said to himself, " Think not that I believe you such idiots as 
to suppose that the sea will obey my bidding — a breath of mine 
would sever the proudest head that now rises above the beach. I 
alone am king, more powerful than any present, and I only 
want to prove that there is but One mightier than I am, and 
that while the waves wash my feet, they would surely drown 
such common rascals as you all are." In a word, the whole 
scene is too rich a piece of mockery to be treated seriously. It 
is as if a man mounted a lofty steeple, and threw down his hat, 
merely to convince the spectators below that if his head had 
been in it, it would assuredly have been broken. It is but the 
old cry of the Mahometan fruit-seller, which ends with, " In 
the name of the prophet — figs." Another proof of his over- 
bearing vanity is given in his conduct to Thorarin, the Danish 
bard. The poet had written some verses in praise of Canute. 
It appears that the king was either engaged or seated at the 
banquet when the scald intreated of him to listen to the verses 
which he had written, urging as a reason, what a patron in 
modern times would most likely have listened to — namely, that 
they were but short. The Dane, however, true to his character, 
in a love of display and praise, turned round indignantly upon 
Thorarin, and in an angry tone exclaimed, " Are you not 
ashamed to do what none but yourself would dare — to write a 
short poem upon me? Unless by to-morrow at noon you pro- 
duce above thirty verses on the same subject, your head shall be 
forfeited." The poor bard retired, and having whipped his muse 
into the finest order for lying and flattering, he by the next day 



CANUTE THE DANE. 263 

produced such a splendid piece of adulation, that the praise- 
loving monarch rewarded him with fifty marks of silver. 

Following the example of the Saxon kings, Canute made a 
pilgrimage to Rome, to visit the tombs of the saints: although 
accompanied by a large train of attendants, he himself bore a 
wallet upon his shoulder, and carried a long pilgrim's staff in 
his hand. On every altar he, with his own hand, placed rich 
gifts — doubtless, wrung from many a poor Saxon — pressed the 
pavement with his lips, and knelt down before the shrines; he 
purchased the arm of St. Augustine, for which he paid a hun- 
dred talents of gold and the same number of talents in silver, 
and this he afterwards presented to the church of Coventry. 
He then despatched a letter to England, which has been fre- 
quently quoted by ancient historians. It is curious as a specimen of 
early epistolary art, and places the character of Canute in a much 
more favourable light than the incidents which we have above 
described; and as we obtain through it glimpses of the manners 
and customs of this remote period, we shall present it entire: — 

"Knut, king of England and Denmark, to all the bishops 
and primates and all the English people, greeting. I hereby 
announce to you that I have been to Rome for the remission of 
my sins, and the welfare of my kingdoms. I humbly thank the 
Almighty God for having granted me, once in my life, the grace 
of visiting in person his very holy apostles Peter and Paul, 
and all the saints who have their habitation, either within the 
walls, or without the Roman city. I determined upon this 
journey because I had learned from the mouths of wise men, 
that the apostle Peter possesses great power to bind or to loose, 
and that he keeps the keys of the celestial kingdom ; wherefore, 
I thought it useful to solicit specially his favour and patronage 
with God. 

" During the Easter solemnity w r as held here a great assembly 
of illustrious persons, — namely, pope John, the emperor Kunrad, 
and all the chief men of the nations from Mount Gargano to the 
sea which surrounds us. All received me with great distinction, 
and honoured me with rich presents. I have received vases of 
gold and silver, and stuffs and vestments of great price; I have 
conversed with the emperor, the lord pope, and the other princes, 
upon the wants of all the people of my kingdoms, English and 
Danes. I have endeavoured to obtain for my people justice 
and security in their pilgrimages to Rome, and especially that 



264 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

they may not for the future be delayed on their road by the 
closing of the mountain passes, or vexed by enormous tolls. I 
also complained to the lord pope of the immensity of the sums 
extorted, to this day, from my archbishops, when, according to 
custom, they repair to the apostolical court to obtain the pal- 
lium. It has been decided that this shall not occur for the 
future. 

" I would also have you know that I have made a vow to 
Almighty God to regulate my life by the dictates of virtue, and 
to govern my people with justice. If during the impetuosity 
of my youth I have done anything contrary to equity, I will for 
the future, with the help of God, amend this to the best of my 
power; wherefore, I require and command all my councillors, 
and those to whom I have confided the affairs of my kingdom, 
to lend themselves to no injustice, either in fear of me, or to 
favour the powerful. I recommend them, if they prize my 
friendship and their own lives, to do no harm or violence to 
any man, rich or poor: let every one, in his place, enjoy that 
which he possesses, and not be disturbed in that enjoyment, 
either in the king's name, or in the name of any other person; 
nor under pretext of levying money for my treasury, for I need 
no money obtained by unjust means. 

" I propose to return to England this summer, and as soon as 
the preparations for my embarkation shall be completed. I 
intreat and order you all, bishops and officers of my kingdom 
of England, by the faith you owe to God and to me, to see that 
before my return all our debts to God be paid — namely, the 
plough dues, the tithe of animals born within the year, and the 
pence due to Saint Peter from every house in town and country; 
and further, at mid-August, the tithe of the harvest, and at 
Martinmas, the first fruit of the seed; and if, on my landing, 
these dues are not fully paid, the royal power will be exercised 
upon defaulters, according to the rigour of the law and without 
any mercy." 

Canute died in the year 1035, and was buried at Winchester. 



265 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

REIGNS OF HAROLD HAREFOOT AND HARDICANUTE. 

" What need I fear of thee ? 
But yet I'll make assurance douhly sure, 
And take a bond of fate : thou shalt not live , 
That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies, 
And sleep in spite of thunder." 

Barnardine. " I have been drinking hard all night; 

I will not consent to die this day, that's certain. 

Duke. O, sir, you must : and therefore I beseech you, 

Look forward on the journey you shall go." 

Shakspere. 

While even the succession to the Saxon throne was sometimes 
disputed when not a doubt remained about the right of a claim- 
ant to the crown, it will not be wondered at, as at his death 
Canute left three sons, two of whom were beyond doubt ille- 
gitimate, that there should be some difference of opinion among 
the chiefs and earls respecting the election of a new sovereign. 
Hardicanute was the undoubted offspring of Emma and Canute; 
she, it will be remembered, being the widow of Ethelred at the 
time of her marriage with the Danish king. There is a doubt 
whether Harold, who ascended the throne after the death of 
Canute, was in any way related to the Danish king; or that 
his pretended mother, whose name was Alfgiva, and who was 
never married to Canute, finding that she was likely to have no 
children, passed off the son of a poor cobbler — whom she named 
Harold — as her own. It is said that Swein, the other reputed 
son of Canute, was introduced by her in the same way. The 
latter, Canute placed upon the throne of Norway during his 
lifetime, also expressing a wish before his death that Harold 
should rule over England, and that Hardicanute, his undisputed 
son, should succeed him as king of Denmark. Beside these 
claimants, it must be borne in mind that the children of 
Ethelred were still alive, although, as we have before shown, 
wholly neglected by the twice-widowed queen, Emma. The 
witena-gemot assembled at Oxford to elect a new sovereign; 
and as there were by this time several Danish chiefs among the 
council, a division at once took place, the Danish party making 



266 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. 

choice of Harold, while the Saxons, headed by the power- 
ful earl Godwin, once the humble cowherd, preferred Hardi- 
canute, because his mother had been the wife of a Saxon 
king. A third party advocated the claims of the sons of 
Ethelred, who were still in Normandy. Leofric, earl of Mercia, 
ranged his forces on the side of Harold ; and even London 
shook off its allegiance to the old Saxon line, and proclaimed in 
his favour. 

Although Hardicanute was in Denmark, earl Godwin re- 
solved to maintain his right to the throne ; and it was not 
until the country was on the very eve of a civil war, and 
when many of the inhabitants had fled into the wild parts to 
avoid its ravages, that the Saxon earl compelled the partisans 
of Harold to give up all the provinces south of the Thames to 
Hardicanute. Thus Godwin and Emma ruled in the south, in 
behalf of Hardicanute, and held their court at Winchester; 
while Harold, with London for his capital, and the whole 
country north of the Thames for his dominions, was acknow- 
ledged king of England; although it is on record, that the arch- 
bishop refused to crown him, because the children of Ethelred 
were still alive; that he even forbade any of the bishops to ad- 
minister the benediction, but placing the crown and sceptre 
upon the altar, left him to crown, anoint, and bless himself 
as he best could. 

But whoever's son Harold might be, he resented this slight 
with all the spirit of a true sea-king. He crowned himself 
without the aid of the Saxon bishops; despised their blessings, 
and, instead of attending church, sallied out with his hounds to 
hunt during the hours of divine service; and so fleet was he of 
foot in following the chase, that he obtained the surname of 
Harefoot. He set no store by the Christian religion, but defied 
all the bishops in Christendom, sounded his hunting horn while 
the holy anthem was chaunted, and conducted himself in every 
way like a hard-drinking, misbelieving Dane. 

We again arrive at one of those mysterious incidents which 
occasionally darken the pages of history, and render it difficult 
to get at the real actors of the tragedy. A letter is written — the 
sons of Ethelred are invited over to England. One arrives — he is 
to all appearance hospitably received; in the night his followers 
are murdered, and he himself shortly after put to a most cruel 
death. That the events we are about to record took place, has 



REIGNS OF HAROLD HAREFOOT AND HARDICANUTE. 267 

never been doubted; the obscurity that will, probably, for ever 
reign around them, conceals the real instigator of the deed. 

Emma, it appears, was at this time living at the court of 
Harold in London, when a letter arrived at Normandy (as if 
from her), earnestly urging her sons, Edward and Alfred, to 
return to England — stating, that the Saxons were already weary 
of the Danish king, and were anxious to place the crown upon 
either of their heads, The letter was answered by Alfred, the 
youngest, appearing in person, accompanied by a troop of Nor- 
man soldiers; which was contrary to the advice of the letter, as 
the instructions it contained especially requested them to come 
secretly. He first attempted to land at Sandwich, but why he 
altered his mind, and went round the North Foreland, has never 
been satisfactorily accounted for; for we cannot see what dif- 
ference it made whether earl Godwin received him at one point 
or the other. It is, however, just probable that a party of 
Danes, or those who were favourable to Harold, may by chance, 
or by command, have been stationed at the spot Alfred first 
selected for debarkation, the secret having got bruited abroad. 

But be this as it may, the Saxon prince at last landed some- 
where between Herne-bay and the Isle of Sheppy, and when he 
had advanced a short distance into the country he was met by 
earl Godwin, who swore fealty to him, and promised to bring 
him safely to his mother Emma, wishing him, however, to avoid 
London, where Harold then resided, and with whom there is 
some slight reason to believe Godwin was now in league, though 
this suspicion hangs by a very slender thread. It is pro- 
bable that the powerful earl took a dislike to the strong body of 
Normans who accompanied Alfred; and, jealous that the power 
he sought to obtain by raising the Saxon prince to the throne 
of England might be weakened by these retainers, he resolved 
to cut them off" at once, then make the best terms he could. 

The Saxon prince and his followers, who amounted to about 
seven hundred, were quartered for the night in the town of 
Guildford, just as accommodation could be found for them, in 
parties of ten and twelve — in every lodging abundance of meat 
and drink was provided. Earl Godwin was in attendance upon 
Alfred until late at night, and when he departed, he promised 
to wait upon him early in the morning. Morning came, but the 
earl made not his appearance, and it would not be unreasonable 
to suppose that the partisans of Harold had heard of the arrival 



268 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. 

of Godwin, that they entered Guildford in the night, and that 
Godwin and his followers, who were unequal to cope with the 
Danish force, escaped. Further, that these were the Danes w r hom 
Alfred had seen while off Sandwich, and, since the course of his 
steering round the North Foreland, and landing near the Isle of 
Sheppy, they had crossed the country. If so, the Saxon prince and 
his Norman followers must have marched through Kent and into 
Surrey, within a few miles of the Danish army, who were pro- 
bably watching the motions of both Godwin and Alfred. Harold 
may have caused the letter to have been written, and confided 
his plans to Godwin, and the latter have resolved to rescue the 
son of Ethelred from the snare that was set to entrap him, for 
Godwin was fully competent to execute such an act if a favour- 
able opportunity offered itself. Emma may have been in ear- 
nest, yet her purpose before accomplished might have been be- 
trayed, for although she is accused of having been an unkind 
mother, there is no proof of that cruelty of disposition evinced, 
which would justify us in concluding that she countenanced the 
murder of her son. She might cling more fondly to Hardicanute, 
who was her youngest child, than to the rest — such a feeling is 
not uncommon. But these doubts and reasons might be mul- 
tiplied into pages, and then we should probably be as wide 
apart from the truth. 

In the old town of Guildford, above 900 years ago, nearly 
seven hundred foreigners, most of them strangers to England, 
retired to rest, some fondly dreaming of the possessions they 
should obtain when the prince whose fortunes they followed 
ascended the throne. Weary with their long journey, others 
would fall at once to sleep, without bestowing a thought npon 
the morrow, for that night there appears to have been no lack 
of either food or wine. When hark, hark! it is the dead mid- 
night, and the chambers in w T hich they sleep are filled with 
armed men — figures in armour, some holding lights, others with 
their swords pointed, bend over them — men who grasp strong 
spears are stationed at the doors — some bind their arms with 
cords — they attempt to reach their weapons, but find they have 
been removed — some struggle for a few moments, but are 
speedily overpowered. Chains and ropes are at hand, stern- 
looking men set their teeth together, and kneel upon them until 
their limbs are bound — and in every house at the self same hour 
they are all secured and made prisoners. A few defended 



REIGNS OF HAROLD HAREFOOT AND HARDICANUTJG. 269 

themselves and were slain. What a night must that have been 
in the old town of Guildford — what Saxon hearts must have 
ached at day-dawn, when the maidens beheld the young and 
handsome foreigners led to execution! for some, doubtless, over 
their cups, had boasted, that when the Saxon prince had " re- 
gained his own," they would return again — and fond, foolish old 
mothers, whose hearts beat in favour of the royal Saxon, may 
have wetted their lips, and drank destruction to the Danes, and 
talked about what they had heard their great-grandmothers say 
of Alfred the Great, and hoped that he who then aspired to the 
throne would be found worthy of the name he bore: — for a 
hundred years would only have added to the fame of the great 
king, and in that old Saxon town there were doubtless many 
living whose ancestors had fought under Alfred the Great. 

The morning that dawned upon the grey country witnessed 
the execution of the Normans; they were led to death in tens, 
and one out of every Iqii was left alive — the rest perished; but 
whether beheaded by the battle-axe, or pierced through with 
the sword or spear, or hung upon the nearest oak, history has 
not recorded. But whether Godwin or Harold was the cause 
of their death will never now be known. Vengeance, who is 
never silent, bore their dying groans to the shores of Normandy, 
and from that hour Revenge rose up, and, with his red right 
arm bared, pointed with his bloody sword to the shores of 
England. For thirty years that grim landmark stood pointing 
over the sea, until at last it leaped from the stormy headland, 
and led the way to the blood-stained shores of Britain. 

Meantime, the Saxon prince was carried captive to London, 
when, after having endured the insults and reproaches of 
Harold, he was hurried off to Ely, to be tried by a mock court 
of Danish judges, who, after having offered him every insult 
they could invent, cruelly sentenced him to lose his eyes. The 
barbarous sentence was fulfilled, and a day or two after its exe- 
cution death put an end to the sufferings of Alfred. 

After the death of Alfred, Emma was banished from England 
by the command of Harold; an act which goes far to prove that 
she had been instrumental in tempting her ill-starred son to 
visit England, though it seems somewhat strange that she should 
take up her residence at Bruges, while her son Edward, who 
was the true heir to the English throne, yet resided in Nor- 
mandy. She, however, despatched messengers to Denmark, 



270 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. 

intreating her son Hardicanute to revenge the death of his 
maternal brother Alfred, who, she said, had been betrayed by- 
earl Godwin, and assassinated by the command of Harold. 
During the remainder of the reign of Harold Harefoot, we lose 
sight of earl Godwin, so that if even he had any share in the 
plot which terminated in the murder of the young prince, it 
appears not to have advanced his interests at the court of 
Harold; who, before the close of his reign, attained the full 
title of king of England. Nor does it appear that Hardica- 
nute ever set foot on the territory allotted to him by the council 
of Oxford, on the south of the Thames; and which, as we 
have shown, was held for a time on his behalf by Godwin, and 
his mother, Emma of Normandy. The son of Canute was at 
Bruges with his mother, having retired thither to consult her 
previous to his meditated invasion of England, when a depu- 
tation arrived there, from England, announcing the death of 
Harold. He had already left a strong fleet at the mouth of 
the Baltic, ready at his command, when the first favourable 
wind blew, to commence hostilities against Britain; nine ships, 
well armed, had also accompanied him on his visit to his 
mother, in Flanders, when, just as his plan of attack was 
decided upon, and all was in readiness for the invasion, Harold's 
brief and blood-stained reign terminated, in the year 1040, and 
he was buried at Westminster. 

Nearly the first act that disgraced the reign of Hardicanute, 
was his disinterment of the body of Harold; which, after having 
exhumed and decapitated, he commanded to be thrown into the 
Thames, from which it was taken out by a Danish fisherman, 
and again interred in a cemetery in London, where the Danes 
only buried their dead. His next act was to summon earl 
Godwin before a court of justice, in which he was accused of 
being instrumental in procuring the death of Alfred. At the 
appointed day Godwin appeared; and, according to a law which 
was at that period extant, procured a sufficient number of wit- 
nesses to swear that they believed he was innocent of the crime 
of which he was accused. Godwin stepped forward, and swore, 
by the holy sacrament, " In the Lord: I am innocent, both in 
word and deed, of the charge of which I am accused." The 
witnesses then came forward, and taking the oath, exclaimed, 
" In the Lord: the oath is clean and upright that Earl Godwin 
has sworn." Simple and inefficient as such a mode of trial may 



REIGNS OF HAROLD HAREFOOT AND EARDICANUTE. 271 

appear, it must be borne in mind that perjury was in those days 
visited with the severest punishment; not confined merely 
to bodily pain, the infliction of a heavy penalty, or the loss 
of worldly goods — but a perjured man was classed with witches, 
murderers, sorcerers, the wolf heads, and outcasts of society; 
and if slain, no one took cognizance of his death ; he was de- 
barred even from the trial of ordeal, and whether he was mur- 
dered or died, was refused the rites of Christian burial. Although 
Alfred had established the trial by jury, such a judicial custom 
as Godwin availed himself of continued to exist after the Nor- 
man conquest. 

Such a legal proof, however, was not sufficient to satisfy 
the cupidity of Hardicanute; and the earl was compelled to 
purchase his favour by presenting him with a splendid ship, 
richly gilt, and manned by eighty warriors, armed with 
helmet and hauberk, each bearing a sword, a battle-axe, and 
a javelin, and their arms ornamented with golden bracelets, 
each of which weighed sixteen ounces. A Saxon bishop was 
also accused of having been leagued with Godwin, and he fol- 
lowed the example of the earl, by purchasing the king's favour 
with rich presents, which at this period appear to have been 
the readiest mode of procuring an acquittal. The two brief 
years that Hardicanute reigned, he seems to have passed in 
feasting and drinking; his banqueting table was spread out 
four times a-day, and his carousals carried far into the night. 
Such excesses could only be kept up by constant supplies 
of money; his " Huscarles," or household troops, were ever 
out levying taxes ; and as these armed collectors were all 
Danes, many of them descendants of the old sea-kings, it will 
be readily imagined that the Saxons were the greatest sufferers, 
and compelled to contribute more than their share to this infa- 
mous Dane-geld, as the tax was called. But these marauders, 
although armed by kingly authority, did not always escape 
scathless. The inhabitants of Worcester rose up and killed two 
of the chiefs, who were somewhat too arbitrarily exceeding their 
duty. Hardicanute ordered a Danish army to march at once 
against the rebels, but when the authorized forces came up, they 
found the city abandoned; the inhabitants had forsaken their 
houses, and strongly entrenched themselves in a neighbouring 
island, and though a great part of the city was destroyed, the 
people remained unconquered. Such a brave example was 



272 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

not lost upon the Saxons. Opposition was now offered in many 
quarters, and the Danish yoke at last became lighter; for Hardi- 
canute seemed to care but little how his kingdom was ruled, so 
that his table was every day laden with good cheer, and his 
wine-cup filled whenever he called for it; for he had been 
nursed in the cradle of the sea-kings, and his chief delight was 
to sit surrounded by these stormy sons of the ocean, and to drink 
healths three fathom deep. Altogether, Hardicanute seems to 
have been a merry thoughtless king. He invited his half- 
brother, Edward, the son of Ethelred, over to England, and 
gave him and his Norman followers a warm welcome at his 
court; left his mother Emma, and earl Godwin, to manage the 
kingdom as they pleased, and died as he had lived, a hard- 
drinker, with the wine-cup in his hand. 

It was at a marriage-feast, somewhere in Lambeth, in the 
year 1042, when Hardicanute drank his last draught. At a late 
hour in the night he rose, staggering, with the wine-cup in his 
hand, and pledged the merry company that were assembled — 
then drinking such a draught as only the son of a sea-king could 
swallow, he fell down senseless upon the floor, " and never word 
again spake he." He was buried near his father Canute, in the 
church of "Winchester. With his death ended the Danish race 
of kings; and Edward, the son of Ethelred, the descendant of a 
long line of Saxon monarchs, ascended the throne of England. 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

ACCESSION OF EDWARD THE CONFESSOR, 

" It is the curse of kings to be attended by slaves." 

" Favourites, made proud by princes, that advance their pride 
Against the power that bred it." 

" Thou wouldst be great. What thou wouldst highly, 
That wouldst thou holily : wouldst not play false, 
And yet wouldst wrongly win." — Shakspere. 

Edward, surnamed the Confessor, had resided in England for 
some time, when the throne became vacant by the death of Har- 
dicanute; and the Danes, left without a leader by the sudden. 
and unexpected demise of their king, had no means of resisting- 



ACCESSION OF EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 273 

.the Saxon force, which all at once wheeled up on the side of 
Edward, and, led on by Godwin, placed the crown of England 
upon the head of the son of Ethelred. To strengthen the power 
which he already possessed, the earl Godwin proposed that the 
king should marry his daughter, Editha, who appears to have 
been a lady of high intellectual attainments: it was said of her, 
in contrast to the stern and ambitions character of her father, 
that, as the thorn produces the rose, so Godwin produced Editha. 
Ingulphus, one of the most celebrated historians living at this 
period, after describing her as being very beautiful, meek, mo- 
dest, faithful, virtuous, a lady of learning, and the enemy of no 
one, says, " I have very often seen her, when, only a boy, I 
visited my father in the royal court. Often, as I came from 
school, she questioned me on letters and my verse; and willingly 
passing from grammar to logic, she caught me in the subtle nets 
of argument. I had always three or four pieces of money counted 
hy her maiden, and was sent to the royal larder for refreshment." 
But all these amiable qualities were not sufficient to bring hap- 
piness to the royal hearth; the earl was ever stepping in between 
Edward and Editha, for Godwin became jealous of the Nor- 
mans, who were constantly coming over, and obtaining dignities 
and honours from the court. Norman soldiers were placed 
over the English fortresses; Norman priests officiated in the 
Saxon churches, and, as the Danish power waned, and the offices 
which Hardicanute had given to his own countrymen became 
vacant, Edward filled up the places with his Norman favourites. 
Those who had befriended him in his exile came over — such as 
had grown up side by side with him till they reached manhood 
— had shared his sports and pastimes — dined at the same table 
with him when, without friend or companion, except his 
brother Alfred, he landed a stranger upon the shores of 
Normandy; — all such as had clung to him, and assisted him 
while he was in exile, now came over to congratulate their 
old acquaintance who had so suddenly emerged from his obscu- 
rity, and become, by the voice of the whole Saxon nation, and 
the tacit consent of the overawed and powerless Danes, the un- 
disputed monarch of England. Edward, on the other hand, 
landed in his native country almost a stranger; he brought with 
him foreign habits, foreign manners, and even spake the Norman - 
French more fluently than the plain Saxon tongue of his an- 
cestors. He was but a child when he left England, and nearly 

T 



274 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

thirty years residence in a foreign court must have caused his 
native language to have sounded harshly on his ears when he 
again landed on the shores of Britain. With the exception 
of those who accompanied him, England would seem like a 
strange country; he found none there whose habits and tastes 
were congenial to his own, none with whom he had inter- 
changed the w r arm friendship which is natural to youth; and 
he must instinctively have shunned the advances made to him 
by earl Godwin, standing suspected, as he did, of having in- 
directly contributed to the death of his brother Alfred, or, at the 
least, of having deserted him in the night, and left him in the 
hands of the Danes. Either Edward must have stood far aloof 
from such suspicion, or, when he consented to marry the daugh- 
ter of Godwin, have purchased the crown of England by making 
a sacrifice of his feelings and of his honour. Edward's mother, 
it will also be remembered, was a Norman, and while the friends 
of her son poured into the English court, she herself was followed 
by those who claimed kindred with her race, until even the 
very language of the Nornian usurped that of the Saxon. 

The Norman costume now became fashionable; those who 
were ambitious of rising in the king's favour, or who wished 
to stand high in the estimation of his favourites, began to 
speak in broken Norman, until, in the neighbourhood of the 
court, the Saxon seemed to have grown into an unfashion- 
able language. One man alone, and he, the most powerful in 
the kingdom, still stuck sturdily to the old Saxon habits, and 
openly expressed his dislike of the Norman favourites. This 
was the cowherd, the son of Ulfnoth, whose daughter the king 
of England had married; and he, with his sons, who had proved 
themselves second to none in valour in the hard-fought field, 
rose up, and made head against the Norman encroachments. 
The Saxon earl, and his tall sons, boldly shouldered their way 
through the crowded court, where their sister and daughter 
reigned as queen; they lowered their helmets to no one, but 
rudely jostled as they passed the groups of knaves and place- 
seekers who infested the palace. Thus, without, at the folk-moots, 
and the guilds, the Saxon earl and his sons were the favourites of 
the people; while within, and about the palace, they were bit- 
terly hated by the Norman favourites. Such was the state of 
parties at the English court nearly a thousand years ago, and it 
will be necessary for the reader to bear them in mind, for the 



ACCESSION OF EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 275 

better understanding of the changes which they lead to — the 
invasion of England by the Normans — a period at which we are 
now rapidly arriving. 

Whether Edward believed that his mother Emma had a share 
in the death of her son Alfred, or was stung with the remembrance 
that she had left them to the mercy of a strange court, and that 
his position in England was rendered uneasy by those who had 
followed him with their clamorous claims across the ocean, or he 
disliked her for the favour which she had shown to her Danish 
son, Hardicanute, or envious of the immense wealth and posses- 
sions she is said to have accumulated during the reckless reign 
of the hard-drinking sea-king — whether led by one or another 
of these motives of dislike and suspicion, or actuated by a wish 
to resent the neglect with which she had treated him, he seized 
upon her possessions, lessened her power, and either confined 
her in the abbey of Wearwell, or limited her residence within 
the compass of the lands he granted her near Winchester. 
This act was countenanced by Godwin, who, though he studied 
his own aggrandisement, seems never wholly to have neglected 
the interests of the Saxons. Her alleged intercourse with the 
bishop of Winchester — her passing through the ordeal of fire 
unscathed, with naked feet over burning plough-shares, are dim 
traditions entirely unauthenticated by any respectable historian, 
although such trials were not uncommon, as we shall show, when 
we come to treat of the manners and customs of the Anglo- 
Saxons. After this period, Emma of Normandy is scarcely 
mentioned again by our early historians. 

During the second year of his reign, Edward was menaced 
with an invasion by Magnus, king of Norway and Denmark, 
who sent letters to England demanding the erown of Edward; to 
which the English king replied by mustering a large fleet at 
Sandwich, and declaring himself ready to oppose his landing. 
But the attention of Magnus was soon diverted from England to 
secure his new territory of Denmark, as Sweyn, the son of Ulfr, 
(the latter being the same sea-king whom the cowherd Godwin 
guided to the Danish camp when he had lost his way in the 
forest,) now aspired to the sceptre of Denmark. The son of 
Ulfr requested aid from Edward to support his claim to the 
Danish sceptre; and this request was strongly backed by earl 
Godwin, who, whatever other stain he may have had upon his 
character, cannot in this instance be accused of ingratitude, lor 

t 2 



276 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

he earnestly pleaded that fifty ships should be fitted out, and 
sent to the aid of the son of his early patron. Godwin's pro- 
position was, however, overruled by Leofric and Siward, earls of 
Mercia and Northumbria, who will frequently be seen to stand 
between earl Godwin and his claims upon the throne. What 
aid Godwin afforded the son of Ulfr of his own accord we know 
not, though it is on record that Sweyn obtained the crown 
of Denmark on the demise of Magnus, which happened shortly 
after the application he made for aid to Edw T ard of England. 
With the death of Magnus ended all attempts upon the English 
crown on the part of the Danes, and we hear no more of the 
ravages of these stormy sea-kings, nor of the civil wars in 
England between these two nations, who had, through the 
alternations of war and peace, been settled in various parts of 
England long before the star of Alfred the Great rose up and 
illumined the dark night of our history. A new enemy was now, 
with slow and silent step, coming stealthily into England; he 
had already obtained a footing in the palace and in the church; 
he had left his slimy trail in the camp, and on the decks of the 
Saxon vessels; he had come with a strange voice, and muttered 
words which they could not understand. 

Those who had often quarrelled were now neighbours; the 
difference in language and manners was beginning to disap- 
pear; for as they, to a certain extent, understood each other's 
dialect, the Saxon and the Danish idioms began to assimilate; 
they, with few exceptions, lived under the same common law; 
their children mingled and played together in the same streets, 
in the same fields and forests, became men and women, married, 
and forgot the quarrels of their forefathers, and at last began to 
settle down like one nation upon the soil. Thus, each party 
looked upon the Norman favourites with the same jealous eye. 

"With the exception of the bickerings both on the part of the 
Saxon and Danish chiefs against the Normans whom Edward 
countenanced, all went on in tolerable order at the Saxon court 
for seven or eight years; for Leofric and Siward were ever 
throwing their formidable weight into the opposite scale, and thus 
keeping an even balance between the power of Godwin and the 
throne. Edward had rendered himself popular with both the Danes 
and the Saxons; he had revived the old laws of his ancestors, 
abolished the odious tax of Dane-geld, without retaliating upon 
such of his subjects as belonged to that nation, as Canute and 



ACCESSION OF EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 277 

Harold had beforetime done while lording it over the Saxons. An 
event at last occurred which scarcely any one would have foreseen 
or have guarded against, and which reads more like a drunken 
frolic, or a common street brawl, than the grave record of 
history, although it ended by embittering the feelings of the 
Saxons against the Normans, and was another of those almost 
invisible steps which eventually led to the conquest of England. 
Amongst the foreigners who came to pay their court at this 
time to the king of England, was Eustace, count of Boulogne, 
who had married a sister of Edward, but whether maid or 
widow at the time of her union with the French count, is not 
very clearly made out; nor is it recorded whether she was the 
daughter of Emma of Normandy, though she laid claim to 
Ethelred as her father. Eustace, proud to claim such a relation- 
ship, whatever it might be, mounted the two slips of feathered 
whalebone in his helmet, and with a showy train of followers 
visited the English court, where he and his retinue were hospi- 
tably entertained by Edward. Here he met with Normans and 
French who spoke nearly the same language as himself, and 
there is but little doubt that such an assembly did not fail to 
show their contempt for everything that was Saxon, voting 
vulgar a court in which a cowherd had risen to the rank of earl; 
and probably extolling their own ancestry, who, time out of 
mind, had been brought up to the more " polite" profession of 
murder and robbery both by sea and land. While returning on 
his visit from Edward, he commanded his train to halt before 
they entered Dover, and putting on his coat of mail, ordered 
his followers to do the same; and thus armed, they entered the 
town. They then commenced riding up and down the streets, 
insulting the inhabitants, and selecting the best houses in which 
to take up their quarters for the night; for such had been the 
custom of the Danes, who made the houses of the Saxons their 
inns, sometimes permitting, as a great favour, the owner and his 
family to share the meal which they had compelled them to pro- 
vide. It is pretty clear that the deeds of these " good old 
times" had furnished the topic of conversation amongst the 
vistors at the Saxon court, made up as it would be of Normans 
and Northmen, and descendants of the Vikingrs, who now found 
it dangerous to follow the "honourable" employment of their 
ancestors — men who mourned over the changes which no longer 
allowed them with impunity to insult the wife and daughter of 



\ 



278 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. 

the Saxon, whom they compelled to be their host — to eat the 
meal which they forced him to provide, and for which they con- 
sidered they made him an ample return if they did not stab him 
upon his own hearth, and then set fire to his house. These 
cruel and bloody deeds, which had been counted valorous, had 
often, doubtless, furnished the midnight conversation of the cruel 
sea-kings, as they congregated around their fire, seated upon — 

" A dismal circle 
Of Druid stories upon the forlorn moor, 
Where the chill rain begun at shut of eve 
In dull November ; and their chancel-vault 
The heaven itself was blinded through the night."— Keats. 

Alas! such horrors were again to be renewed; though there 
were but few at this time who foresaw the storm which was 
now slowly heaving up, and was ere long doomed to burst with 
renewed fury upon England. 

While the French count and his followers were prancing 
through the streets of Dover, full, perhaps, of the thoughts of 
such scenes as we have faintly pictured, one of them alighted 
upon the threshold of a sturdy Saxon, who, considering his 
house was his castle, refused to allow the insulting foreigner to 
enter. The Frenchman or Norman instantly drew his sword 
and wounded the Saxon, who in his turn slew the aggressor. 
The count and his followers attacked the Englishman, and put 
him to death upon his own hearth. All Dover was instantly in 
arms, for the foreigners now rode through the town sword in 
hand, striking at all they came near, and trampling every one 
they could ride over under the hoofs of their horses. They 
were at last met by an armed body of the townsmen. A severe 
combat took place, and it was not until nineteen of his followers 
were slain, that the count of Boulogne took flight with all the 
speed he could; and not venturing to embark, he hastened back, 
with such of his train as remained, to the court of the English 
king. 

Edward at once forgave his brother-in-law, and, on his bare 
assertion, believed that the inhabitants of Dover were wholly 
to blame; he then sent for earl Godwin, within whose governor- 
ship Dover was included, and ordered him without delay to 
attack the town, and punish all who had risen up in arms 
against the count of Boulogne and his followers. But the Saxon 
earl was loath to appear in arms against his countrymen on the 



ACCESSION OF EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 279 

mere report of a stranger, and reasonably enough suggested 
that the whole affair should be investigated by competent judges; 
" for it ill becomes you," replied Godwin, " to condemn without 
a hearing the men whom it is your duty to protect." Urged on 
by the clamours of his favourites, Edward insisted upon imme- 
diate vengeance being executed upon the inhabitants of Dover; 
and when the Saxon earl refused to fulfil his commands, he 
then cited him to appear before the council at Gloucester, where 
the court was then held. Godwin was w T ell acquainted with the 
characters who would preside at the court before which he was 
summoned, and well knew that, right or wrong, sentence of 
banishment would be proclaimed against him, as it consisted 
chiefly of Normans, who were his sworn enemies, and who 
would not hesitate, by any means, to lessen the power he pos- 
sessed : so, seeing the foreign enemies that were arrayed against 
him, and the unfair trial that awaited him, he resolved to over- 
throw this corrupt court by an appeal to arms, and, without 
offering any violence to the king, rescue both himself and 
England from the " cunning of the Normans." For as an old 
writer observes, while describing the events which preceded and 
were followed by those which took place about this period, 
" The all-powerful God must have proposed to himself at once 
two plans of destruction for the English race, and must have 
framed a sort of military ambuscade against it: for, on one hand, 
he let loose the Danish invasion; on the other, he created and 
cemented the Norman alliance; so that, if we escaped the blows 
aimed at our faces by the Danes, the cunning of the Normans 
might be at hand to surprise us." 

When Godwin refused to be tried by the corrupt and packed 
court of Gloucester, he commenced assembling his forces toge- 
ther; for he was governor over the whole of the extensive 
country south of the Thames, and the popularity of his quarrel 
caused numbers to flock to his standard, as he was now looked 
up to by the Saxons as the defender of their rights. Harold, 
his oldest son, also collected a large army from the eastern 
coast between the Thames and Boston Wash; while Sweyn, his 
second son, mustered many followers along the banks of the 
Severn and the frontiers of Wales. The three armies com- 
manded by Godwin and his sons united, and drew up near 
Gloucester, when the earl sent messengers to the king, demand- 
ing that the Count of Boulogne, with his followers, together with 



280 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

such of the Normans and Frenchmen as had rendered them- 
selves objectionable, should be given up to the justice of the 
English nation. 

Meantime, Edward had not been idle, but had despatched 
messengers to Siward and Leofric, with orders to muster all the 
forces they could without loss of time, and during the interval 
that preceded their arrival, he kept up a seeming negotiation 
with Godwin; but no sooner did he find himself surrounded by 
a powerful army, headed by his own chosen leaders, than he 
refused boldly to give up his Norman and French favourites. 
But a great and unexpected change had taken place in the spirit 
of the people; for although Edward had followed that cruel 
policy which kings have too often had recourse to, that of 
setting one nation against another, the Danes of Mercia and 
Northumberland which had marched up under the banners of 
their earls, when confronted together, refused to make war upon 
the Saxons. They now considered them as their countrymen — 
so would not shed their blood for Edward and his foreign favour- 
ites; a strong proof how popular the cause was which Godwin 
had taken up; whilst neither the Saxon nor Danish chiefs would 
draw their swords in such a quarrel. 

When on neither side parties could be found who were willing 
to shed each other's blood, peace was at once agreed upon, and 
it was decided that the dispute should be investigated by an 
assembly in London. Hostages and oaths were exchanged. 
both swearing to maintain the peace of God, and perfect friend- 
ship. On the side of Edward this solemn promise does not 
appear to have been sincere, as he availed himself of the interval 
between taking the oath and the appointed time on which the 
assembly was to take place, in levying a powerful army from 
every available source, and in nearly every instance giving the 
command of the various troops to his Norman and French 
favourites. This immense army was quartered in and around 
London, so that the appointed council was held in the very 
heart of a strongly fortified camp, the leaders of which 
were the enemies of Godwin. Before this council Godwin 
and his sons were summoned to appear' without an escort, 
and unarmed. The earl, in return, demanded that hostages 
should be given for their safety; for he well knew that they had 
but few friends in the council. Edward refused to- furnish 
.hostages, or to guarantee their safety either in coming or going; 



ACCESSION OF EDWARD THE CONFESSOK. 281 

and after having been twice or thrice summoned, and refused the 
unconditional terms of surrender, sentence of banishment was 
pronounced against earl Godwin and his sons, and only five days 
allowed them to quit England, with all their family. Even 
before the expiration of that period, king Edward, instigated 
doubtless by his favourites, who thirsted both for the blood and 
the estates of the Saxon earl, ordered a troop of horse to pursue 
the banished nobleman and his family, but the command of the 
party was fortunately entrusted to a Saxon, who was in no hurry 
to overtake them. Godwin, with his wife, and three of his sons., 
Sweyn, Tostig, and Gurth, with such treasure as they could 
amass, sailed for Flanders, and were kindly received by earl 
Baldwin; while Harold and Leofwin, his other sons, embarked 
from Bristol, and escaped into Ireland. All their broad lands were 
confiscated; the high situations they had held were given to the 
Norman favourites; the castles they had inhabited, with all they 
contained, fell into the hands of their enemies; and Godwin 
found himself, in his old age, and after a busy life spent in the 
service of courts and camps, but little richer than, when a humble 
cowherd, he led Ulfr through wild forest paths to the Danish 
camp. 

Editha the queen was now left alone in the midst of her 
father's enemies; nor was she long before she felt the weight of 
their hatred and vengeance. " It was not right," the Norman 
favourites said, " that while her family was in exile, she herself 
should sleep upon down." She was also deprived of all the 
possessions which on her marriage had been bequeathed to her 
by her father, and then shut up in a nunnery. Calm and passion» 
less as an historian ought ever to be, he would scarcely feel any 
regret if the Norman invasion had taken place in the life-time 
of such a weak-minded monarch as this Edward the Confessor, 
were it only for his conduct to the beautiful and highly-gifted 
Editha, whose character Ingulphus has so delicately drawn. Still 
less do we admire the forbearance by which he obtained his 
much-lauded sanctity, which was but a species of "refined cruelty" 
towards a lady whose very soul must have been a shrine fit for the 
purest affection to dwell in. But, after all, we feel a pity for 
Edward. His life was uncheered either by the affection of 
father or mother, excepting in the very early years of childhood. 
As he grew up, he became a prey to false friends and unprincipled 
priests, who, while they pretended to draw his attention to the 



282 HISTORY OF EMGLAND. 

treasures "which neither rust nor mcth doth corrupt," were them- 
selves revelling in the very heart of vile and selfish corruption. 
Ambitious as Godwin might be, there was much more of the noble- 
ness of human nature in his character than existed in the soul of 
Edward; and, although we feel sorry for the king's weakness, we 
can never pardon him for leaving that lovely lady alone in the cold 
grey cloisters of a nunnery, where, to use the words of one of 
our old chroniclers, she " in tears and prayers expected the day 
of her release," doubtless looking beyond the grave for that 
happiness which it was never her lot to know on earth. But 
we have now arrived at the fall and banishment of earl Godwin, 
and must leave him for awhile in exile, to glance at the merry 
doings in the English court during his absence. 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

EDWAKD THE CONFESSOB. 

" As I was banished, I was banished, 
But as I come, I come. — 
Will you permit that I shall stand condemned 
A wandering vagabond ; my rights and royalties 
Plucked from my arms perforce, and given away 
To upstart spendthrifts ? 
What would you have me do ? I am a subject, 
And challenge law; attornies are denied me; 
And therefore, personally, I lay my claim 
To my inheritance." — Shakspere. 

After the banishment of earl Godwin, the English court must 
have resembled the joyous uproar which often breaks out in a 
school during the absence of the master, for the days which fol- 
lowed are described as " days of rejoicing and big in fortune 
for the foreigners." The dreaded earl in exile — his warlike 
sons far away from England — and the beautiful queen Editha 
weeping among the cold cloisters — left nothing more to do but 
revel in the triumph of the victory thus attained. There was 
now a Norman archbishop of Canterbury, a Norman bishop of 
London, and in nearly every fortress a Norman or French go- 
vernor; and, to crown all, William, duke of Normandy, called 



EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 283 

alike the Bastard and the Conqueror, came over with a nume- 
rous train to visit king Edward, and to see how matters stood 
in England. It is difficult to prove now, whether the duke 
of Normandy was invited by Edward, or came over at 
the suggestion of his countrymen, "to see how the land lay;" 
the latter is the more probable; and we can imagine the picture 
which must have been drawn of England, either in the letter 
sent, or by the messenger who went over; and how the son of 
Robert the Devil (for such was the surname his father bore in 
Normandy) must have smiled at the ascendancy his countrymen 
had obtained over the weak-minded king of England. We can 
fancy some such gentleman as the count of Boulogne, full of 
" smart sayings," recounting how he and his followers "amused" 
themselves at Dover; and how the few trifling murders they 
committed were instrumental in driving out the family of Godwin; 
in a word, that do whatever they might, Edward would stand up 
to support them, and that they could now ride rough-shod over 
the Saxons. 

Before proceeding further, it is necessary that we should give 
some account of this new guest; who, either bj 7, good fortune, 
cunning, or valour, changed the whole face of England, and 
shook into dust the power from which, through a succession of 
many centuries, had sprung a race of powerful kings. 

This William, who will ever bear the proud title of the Con- 
queror, was the natural son of Robert duke of Normandy, who 
was nearly allied to Emma, the queen of both Ethelred and 
Canute, and the mother of Edward. William's mother was the 
daughter of a tanner, or some one humbly situated in the town 
of Falaise, and was one day busily engaged in washing clothes 
at a brook, when the eye of duke Robert chanced to alight upon 
her as he was returning from hunting. Pleased with her beauty, 
he sent one of his knights to make proposals to her father, 
offering no doubt, on pretty liberal terms, to make her his mis- 
tress. The father received the proposition coldly, but probably 
dreading that his daughter might be carried off by force — and 
our only wonder is that she was not — he went to consult his 
brother, who is said to have lived in a neighbouring forest, and 
to have stood high in the estimation of all around for his sanctity. 
The "pious" brother gave his opinion, and said that in all things 
it was fitting to obey the will of the prince. So Arlette, or 
Harlot, as her name is sometimes spelt, was consigned to duke 



284 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

Robert, who, we must conclude, was already married. Illegi- 
timacy, as we have shown in several reigns, was thought but 
little of at this period, many of our own Saxon kings having had 
no better claim to the crown than William had to the dukedom of 
Normandy. However, Robert the Devil, as he was called from 
his violent temper, was greatly attached to both the tanner's 
daughter and the child she bore him, whom he brought up with 
as much affection as if he had been the son of a lawful wife.* 

When William was only seven years old, his father was 
seized with a fit of devotion, and resolved to make a pilgrimage, 
on foot, to Jerusalem, to obtain forgiveness for his sins. His 
chiefs and barons rightly argued that such a journey was not 
free from danger, and that if he chanced to die, they should be 
left without a ruler. u By my faith," answered the duke, " I 
will not leave you without a lord. I have a little bastard, who will 
grow up and be a gallant man, if it please God. I know he is 
my son. Receive him, then, as your lord, for I make him my 
heir, and give him from this time forth the whole duchy of 
Normandy." 

The Norman barons did as duke Robert desired; and placing 
their hands between the child's, acknowledged him as their 
ruler. The duke did not live to return from his pilgrimage; 
and although some opposition was offered to the election of 
William, and a civil Avar ensued, the adherents of the bastard 
were victorious.^ Nor was William long before he gave proofs 
of that daring and valour which form so prominent a feature in 
his character; he was soon able to buckle on his armour, and 
mount his war-horse without the aid of the stirrup; and on the 
day when he first sprang into his saddle without assistance, the 
veterans who had drawn their swords in defence of his claim to 
the dukedom made it a day of great rejoicing. Bold, fearless, 
and determined, and as if resolved to triumph over those who had 
objected to his election on the ground of his birth, he occasionally 
issued his commands, and put forth his charter with the bold 
beginning that proclaimed his origin, and wrote, " We, William 
the Bastard, hereby .decree, &c." He soon evinced a love for 
horses and military array, and while yet young made war upon 
his neighbours of Anjou and Brittany. Nor did he fail to punish 
those who made any allusion to his birth; although he himself 

* William of Malmsbury. 
* Thierry's " Norman Conquest," p. 134, European Library edition. 



EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 285 

at times made a boast of his illegitimacy, yet to none others 
would he allow that privilege in his hearing without resenting it 
as an insult; and his vengeance was at times accomplished with 
the most merciless cruelty. While attacking the town of Alen- 
con, the besieged appeared upon the walls, and beating their 
shields, which were covered with leather, exclaimed, "Hides! 
hides!" in allusion to the calling of his mother's father. The 
cruel Norman immediately ordered the hands and feet of the 
prisoners he had captured in an attempted sally to be cut off, 
and thrown over the walls into the town by his slingers. Such 
was the inhuman act committed by the savage who now came 
as a spy and a guest to the court of England. 

Great must have been the delight of duke William to see, 
wherever he moved, his own countrymen at the head of the 
navy and army. If he visited a fortress, a Norman was ready 
as governor to receive him; if he entered a church, a Norman 
bishop stood forth to meet him; if he remained in the palace, 
Norman friends surrounded him; and he heard only the language 
of his own country spoken, and was acknowledged by all who in 
England approached him (excepting the king, and a few Saxon 
chiefs) as their lord and governor. Wherever he moved, he was 
met by Normans, and bowed down to, as if he had already been 
England's king; for nearly all the high offices in the kingdom 
were either in the hands of the Norman or French favourites. 
What secret consultations he had with his friends, what notes 
were made on the strength of the fortresses, the safest roads, the 
best landing places, is not recorded, although it is evident that 
the Norman duke had already fixed his eye upon the crown of 
England, and but waited for a favourable pretext to seize upon it. 

Edward, beyond doubt, received his cousin William kindly, 
perhaps more so than he had done any other Norman; for all 
his affections seemed planted in the land where he had spent 
the years of his youth; beside, William's father had been kind 
to him and his brother Alfred, when they had no friends in 
England whom they knew of. Nor could William well allude to 
the English throne becoming vacant on the death of Edward, nor 
deplore that he left no son behind to reign in his stead, for Edward, 
the son of his half-brother, Edmund Ironside, was still alive; so 
William wisely held his peace, and left all to time and chance — 
taking care to watch both. Previous to his return, Edward 
presented him with arms, horses, dogs, and falcons, loaded his 



286 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

attendants with presents, and gave the duke every proof of his 
sincere affection. After his departure, the Norman favourites 
became more arrogant than ever; for there is but little doubt 
that they now began to look upon England as their own, and 
but waited for the death of the weak-minded king, and the 
return of duke William, to take possession. All this seems 
secretly and silently to have been arranged. These plans, how- 
ever, were for a time doomed to be frustrated. Earl Godwin 
and his powerful sons were still alive, and making such prepara- 
tions as the court parasites had never dreamed of for returning 
to England, and avenging themselves upon their enemies. Still, 
the cunning of duke William failed him not. Chances favoured 
him; and we seem as we w^ere now about to weave and un- 
weave the web of a wild romance, instead of recounting the 
truthful events of history. 

Yet, in the great drama which we are about to open, popes, 
and crowned kings, and mitred bishops, princes, and priests, are 
the actors; and the prize contended for is that England which 
now claims the proud title of " Queen of the World" — that little 
island which has dwarfed ancient Rome and classic Greece by 
its gigantic grandeur. 

Earl Godwin during his exile had not remained idle; he had still 
a few friends in England who would take care to acquaint him with 
all that was going on at court. Here and there a Saxon had also 
managed to retain the command of a fortress, and but few of his 
countrymen now remained that were not heartily disgusted with 
the arrogance and tyranny of the Norman favourites. Such 
wealth as Godwin had carried out with him, or been able to 
muster, he had made good use of; and having got together a 
powerful fleet, he, in the summer of 1052, ventured once more 
upon the English court. He had taken the precaution to des- 
patch faithful emissaries before him, and thousands of the Saxons 
and Danes had sworn an oath, that they would take up arms, 
and " fight until death for earl Godwin." His first attack was 
not very successful; for although he managed to elude the fleet, 
which was commanded by his enemies the Normans, he was at 
last discovered, pursued, and compelled to shelter in the Pevensey 
Koads. A tempest arose while Godwin lay at anchor, and dis- 
persed the royal fleet. 

Near the Isle of Wight he was joined by his sons, Harold 
and Leofwin, who had returned from Ireland, and brought with 



EDWARD THE CONFESBOE. 2S7 

them both men and ships — a clear proof that Godwin had care- 
fully arranged his plans. Wherever the Saxon fleet now moved 
along the coast they met with a warm welcome; wherever they 
chose to land, armed bands appeared, and joined with them; 
the peasants brought in stores of provisions; and the name of 
earl Godwin was again proclaimed with as much heartiness and 
sincerity as when he alone dared to beard the Norman favourites 
in the palace — the current of popularity had every way set 
in his favour. Part of his forces he landed at Sandwich, then 
daringly doubled the North Foreland, and sailed like a conqueror 
up the Thames, to the very foot of the grey wave-washed wall 
where Edmund and Canute had carried on the struggle, when 
London was besieged and defended. What a buzzing there 
would again be in the old city throughout all that summer night! 
what whispering in the secret corners of the old-fashioned streets! 
for Godwin had managed to land many of his followers, and they 
had friends on shore, and appointed places of meeting and pass- 
words, by which they could recognise each other in the dark; 
and arms would be seen glancing, half concealed by short Saxon 
and Danish cloaks, and treason be as rife in every hole-and-corner 
as it ever was in any of the centuries which have since elapsed. 
From the royal army, troops were deserting every hour, and all 
around the coast, and up the Thames, the ships that were sent 
out to oppose him turned round their heads, and either willingly, 
or through fear, followed in his wake, and, instead of becoming 
enemies, strengthened his formidable fleet. 

Before a blow was struck by his impatient followers, Godwin 
sent a respectful message to the king, requesting the revision of 
the sentence which had been passed against him, and demanding 
a restitution of his property and honours; in return for which 
he promised to become a true and faithful subject in all duty to 
the king. Edward refused the proffered submission, though 
every hour saw his forces thinned, and, with the exception of his 
foreigners, those who remained appeared unwilling to fight. 
Other messengers were despatched to Edward, for Godwin was 
reluctant to employ the large force under his command against 
the w^eak and wavering followers of the king, whose nume- 
rical strength bore no comparison to his own; for he clearly 
saw that, if his army would but have the patience to wait, he 
should obtain a bloodless victory; it was, however, with great 
difficulty that he could restrain them, so eager were they to be 



288 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. 

revenged on the Normans. Nor were the latter at all backward 
in urging Edward to commence the attack, for they well knew 
that concession on the king's part would be their ruin, while, in 
the chances of a fight, Godwin might probably be killed, or if 
even victorious there would be something for all who ventured 
into such a scramble. But the few ships which Edward had 
drawn up above London -bridge could not be depended on; the 
king knew that a battle on his part was a hopeless affair, yet still 
he remained unbending and obstinate. There were still a few 
Saxon nobles true to Edward; they were of those whose ances- 
tors had followed Alfred, and Athelstan, and Ethelred through 
good and through evil report; and who. like the nobles that have 
for centuries succeeded them, resolved to remain true subjects 
while ever one sat upon the throne in whose veins the blood of 
Hengist or Horsa flowed. To such as these in the hour of real 
danger Edward was still wise enough to listen. Pie for once 
disregarded the advice of his Norman favourites, and leaving 
Stigand, his bishop, to act as president, permitted the Saxon 
chiefs who belonged to his own party to meet those who came 
over in the favour of earl Godwin, with the mutual intention of 
effecting a reconciliation. Where both parties were anxious for 
peace, there was but little probability of a war; this the Nor- 
mans saw, and well knew that there was not a moment to be lost. 
And now our old English chroniclers fairly lose themselves in 
the feelings of delight with which they describe the hasty de- 
parture of the Norman favourites. Never before was there 
amongst them such packing and saddling ! at every little portal- 
gate they were seen sallying out of London; in his hurry to 
escape, the Norman archbishop of Canterbury left behind his 
pallium. Stigand found it, threw it over his own shoulders, 
and on the strength of the sanctity which it was supposed to con- 
tain, set up archbishop on his own account. Some galloped off 
and left all their effects behind, glad to get to the seaside at 
any price, and to creep into little dirty fishing-boats, filled with 
" ancient smells," and there concealing themselves, crept over to 
the opposite coast as speedily as possible. Others, following the 
example set them on a former occasion by Eustace of Boulogne, 
trampled underfoot the children that were playing in the summer 
twilight in the streets of London, and thus slew by proxy earl 
Godwin's Saxons, for of such metal were these foreign favourites 
made of. We can picture the Saxon wives of that day picking 



EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 289 

up their dead and wounded children, and cursing the cowards 
as the thunder of their horses' hoofs died away in the dim dis- 
tance. 

The witena-gemot again assembled in London for the trial of 
earl Godwin; the balance of power was this time in his own 
hands — there were no Norman enemies to fear — and the Saxon 
boldly defended himself; his sons also showed that they were 
justified in acting as they had done, and " all the great men and 
chiefs of the country," before whom they appeared, were satisfied. 
The sentence of banishment was recalled; their honours and estates 
restored; and it was then decreed that all the Normans should 
be banished from England, as " promoters of discord, enemies of 
peace, and calumniators of the English to their king." A son and 
grandson of Go'dwin's were then given up to Edward as hostages; 
and, for better security, the king sent them over to duke William 
of Normandy — these we shall have to return to again as our plot 
deepens, and we draw nearer to the end of the bloody tragedy 
which ended in the destruction of the Saxons. Editha left her 
convent, and the family of earl Godwin were once more triumph- 
ant at the English court. An exception was made to one of the 
old earl's sons, named Sweyn, not for the part he had taken 
in ousting the Norman favourites, but for offences of a graver 
nature. He, however, became penitent, donned a pilgrim's garb, 
walked barefooted to Jerusalem, and died, as Robert the Devil 
had done before him, on his way home. 

A few exceptions of but little note were made to this decree 
of banishment against the Normans; the archbishop, who had 
run away without his pallium, was restored; and a few others, 
who appear to have stood aloof from the quarrels fomented by 
their countrymen, or who, at least, had the tact to steer clear of 
open danger, were, at the intercession of Edward, permitted to 
remain in England. 

We have attempted a sketch of the English court after the 
exile of Godwin's family — of the joy and triumph that reigned 
in Edward's palace: the picture reversed must have presented a 
faithful representation of the rage and hatred of the Normans, 
when, after their hasty flight, they again assembled at duke 
William's court. What raving and storming must there have 
been amongoc the disappointed courtiers, what a stamping of 
armed feet and dropping of sabres, as they swore what they 
would do if ever they met the Saxon earl in arms! Above all, 

u 



290 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

what curses loud and deep must have been vented against 
Godwin and all his family ! We can picture duke William 
biting his lip, and walking moodily apart, until the two hostages 
arrived; and then his cunning eye would brighten for a moment, 
as he felt he had still a hold, though but a slender one, upon the 
weak-minded monarch of England. 

Godwin, who was now an old man, did not long survive his 
triumph. The account of his death is given in various ways 
by the old chroniclers. It appears to have taken place at the 
Easter festival, in the year 1053; and although not so sudden 
as some of the monkish writers have described it to be, the 
earl never rallied again from the hour when he first fainted at 
the banquet table in the presence of the king. One of the 
servants, while in the act of pouring out a cup of wine, stumbled 
with one foot, and would have fallen but for the dexterity with 
which he advanced the other. Godwin raised his eyes, and, 
smiling, said to the king, " The brother has come to assist the 
brother." " Ay," answered Edward, looking with a deep mean- 
ing on the Saxon chief, " brother needs brother, and would to 
God mine still lived!" " Oh, king," exclaimed Godwin, "why 
is it that, on the slightest recollection of your brother, you 
always look so angrily on me? If I contributed even indirectly 
to his death, may the God of heaven grant that this piece of 
bread may choke me!" Godwin put the bread in his mouth, say 
the authors who relate this anecdote, and was immediately 
strangled. His death, however, was not so sudden; for, falling 
from his seat, he was carried out by his two sons, Tostig and 
Gurth, and expired five days after. But the account of this 
event varies, according as the writer is of Norman or English 
race. " I ever see before me two roads, two opposite versions," 
says an historian of less than a century later; " I warn my 
readers of the peril in which I find myself."* 

Siward, the chief of Northumberland, who had at first fol- 
lowed the royal party against the Saxon earl, but eventually 
assisted in expelling the foreign favourites, expired soon after 
Godwin. He was by birth a Dane, and the population of the 
same origin over whom he ruled gave him the title of Siward- 
Digr, Siward the Strong; a rock of granite was long shown, 
which he is said to have split with one blow of his axe. Feeling 

* Thierry's " Norman Conquest." 



EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 291 

his end approach, he said to those who surrounded him, " Raise 
me up, and let me die like a soldier, and not huddled together 
like a cow; put me on my coat of mail, place my helmet on my 
head, my shield on my left arm, and my gilt axe in my right 
hand, that I may expire in arms." Siward left one son, named 
Waltheof, who being too young to succeed to his government, it 
was given to Tostig, Godwin's third son. Harold, who was the 
eldest son, succeeded G-odwin to the government south of the 
Thames; and Edward showed more kindness to the son than he 
had ever done to the father, for on him there rested no suspicion 
connected with the death of Alfred, a subject which was ever 
settling down like a dark cloud upon the sunniest moments that 
Godwin and Edward enjoyed. Harold was the most gifted 
of all Godwin's sons, and soon became as popular with the 
people as his father; having, moreover, no enemies in the court, 
— for to such favourites as the king wished to retain Harold 
offered no opposition; nor was it necessary, for Edward was 
now fast verging into dotage ; his intellect, which, at best, was 
never very brilliant, now became clouded, and he passed a 
greater portion of his time amongst his priests. No one ever 
sat upon the Saxon throne worse adapted to play the part of a 
king than Edward the Confessor ; he was not cut out for the 
rough business of this work-a-day world. To a peasant who 
once offended him, he said, " I would hurt you if I were able;" 
an exclamation, as Sharon Turner observes, "which almost 
implies imbecility." 

For some time there was a dispute between Harold and Algar, 
the son of Leofric, the governor of Mercia. Godwin, on suc- 
ceeding to the earldom, had either voluntarily, or at the request 
of Edward, given up the command of East Anglia to Algar; but 
no sooner did Harold find himself in full power, than he com- 
pelled the son of Leofric to give up the governorship, and, ac- 
cusing him of treason, made war upon him. Nothing daunted 
by his first defeat, Algar went into Wales, and obtaining 
assistance of Griffith, one of the Welsh kings, and mustering 
many powerful allies amongst his own connexions, he returned, 
ravaged Hereford, burnt the abbey, and slew several priests; 
and Kaulf, who commanded the garrison, being a Norman, 
rather encouraged than opposed the ravages of Algar. It is said 
that he caused the Saxons to fight on horseback, a mode of war- 
fare to which they were unaccustomed. But Harold was not 

u 2 



292 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

long before arriving at the scene of action, when he soon de- 
feated Algar and his Welsh allies, driving them back into their 
mountain fastnesses, and, it is said, compelling the Welsh chiefs 
to swear that they would never again pass the frontier of Wales. 
Harold granted the prisoners he had taken their lives, on the 
condition that the oath was kept, while on his part he solemnly 
vowed, that if a Welshman was taken in arms on the English side 
of Offa's-dyke, he should have his right hand cut off. To Algar 
these terms extended not, and Harold was at last compelled to 
negotiate with him, and restore him to his former dignities. 
Meantime Tostig but succeeded indifferently in the governorship 
of Northumbria. Siward, who had so long had the command 
over them, was himself a Dane; and as the inhabitants of the 
North, with but few exceptions, were of Danish origin, they took 
a dislike to the son of Godwin. He imposed heavy taxes upon 
them, violated their ancient privileges, and seems, in fact, to 
have rendered himself as unpopular as the Norman governors 
had ever been with the Saxons. Worn down by oppression, the 
Anglo-Danes at last rebelled, attacked the city of York, in 
which the chief residence of Tostig stood, and put many of his 
principal followers to death, amongst whom were several of their 
own countrymen. Although Tostig escaped, and the Danes 
seized upon his treasures, they rested not satisfied with such a 
victory, but assembling a great council they pronounced sen- 
tence of banishment against him, and elected Morkar, one of the 
sons of Algar, governor in his stead. Morkar took the command 
of the rebel army, and drove Tostig into Mercia; he was also 
strengthened by the Welsh force, who, led on by his brother 
Edward, had, in despite of their oath, once more ventured across 
Offa's-dyke in arms. The old feeling was not yet dead amongst 
the ancient Cymry, who seem to have been as eager as ever they 
were before time to fight against the Saxons. 

There is considerable confusion in the time and dates of these 
attacks upon the Welsh, by Harold and his brother Tostig, and 
it is difficult to separate one invasion from the other, although it 
seems evident that the Welsh king, Griffith, fell in the latter, 
and that his head was sent to Harold. But though the Welsh 
were defeated, terms of negotiation were entered into with the 
Anglo-Danes. Harold required of them to state their griev- 
ances. They did; and boldly told him that his brother's tyranny 
was the cause of their appearing in arms. Harold tried to excul- 
pate his brother, and promised that he should rule better for the 



EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 293 

future, if they would again accept him as their governor. They 
refused. " We were born free," said one of the Danish leaders, 
"and brought up free, a haughty chief is insupportable to 
us; we will, like our ancestors, live or die free. We have no 
other answer to give to the king." Harold not only delivered 
the message, but dissuaded Edward from protracting the war, 
and on his return ratified their rights with his own signature, as 
representative of the king; sanctioning the election of the son of 
Algar, and the rejection of his brother. Tostig, in a rage, de- 
parted to Flanders to his father-in-law, vowing vengeance 
against Harold and his countrymen. 

As the tax called Peter-pence began to fail, so did the friend- 
ship of the church of Rome towards England abate; there was 
no longer any law in existence to enforce the payment, all that 
was sent over being a voluntary contribution. It was then that 
the mother church began to complain of simony being practised 
in England, of Saxon bishops who had purchased their sees; not 
that the church of Rome was herself guiltless of such transac- 
tions, but that she objected to a system in which she partook 
not of the profits. The storm first broke over the head of 
Eldred, archbishop of York, who, when he went to Rome to soli- 
cit the pallium, was refused, and it was only through the interfer- 
ence of a Saxon nobleman that he at last obtained it. Robert, 
the Norman archbishop of Canterbury, had again been driven 
from his see by the Saxons; and Stigand, who had before 
snatched up the pallium, which the archbishop had left behind 
in his eagerness to escape, again officiated in the place of the 
banished primate. But Robert this time flew to Rome, and 
there branded the Saxon bishop as an usurper. The result 
was, that the archbishop returned with a letter from the pontiff, 
commanding Stigand to resign. But before Robert reached 
England another pope had been chosen by the principal Roman 
families, and to Benedict the Saxon bishop appealed, who granted 
him permission to wear the pallium. The election of Benedict 
was the signal for an army to advance upon Italy, and enforce 
another election which the king of Germany approved of. Two 
popes could not reign; the last was victorious. Benedict was 
defeated, and excommunicated, and the pallium he had given to 
Stigand was now useless. Had Benedict been victorious, it 
would have been as good a pallium as ever pontiff blessed; 
packed up, and despatched from the eternal city, as it was, " it 
was a thing of naught." 



294 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

Trifling, as matters of history, as such petty squabbles must ap- 
pear, they, nevertheless, had their weight and influence — widening 
the breach which had already been made between the church 
of Rome and England; and when the time arrived, and the 
vindictive mother saw the opportunity of striking a blow effec- 
tually, she did so, and brought all the power she possessed to 
aid William the Norman when he attacked England. Norman 
Robert and Saxon Stigand, though but feathers floating in the air, 
showed unerringly that the wind which blew from Rome was un- 
favourable to the interests of England. While Britain also seemed 
drifting away daily wider and further from Rome, William of Nor- 
mandy was still drawing nearer to the eternal city, and constantly 
seeking its favour and protection. Alexander the Second, who 
had driven out and excommunicated the anti-pope, Benedict, had 
refused to sanction duke William's marriage with Matilda, a refusal 
which was countenanced by the learned monk, Lanfranc, then 
resident at the Norman court. Although the fiery duke dared 
not do more than murmur at the opposition of the pontiff, 
which was grounded on the near relationship of William to 
Matilda, still he was resolved not to brook the reproaches of 
Lanfranc, much as he valued the monk as a councillor; so he 
banished him from his court. Lanfranc went to Rome, grew in 
favour with the new pope, and, instead of resenting William's 
harsh treatment, the monk obtained from the pontiff a dispen- 
sation. Alexander the Second acknowledged the marriage of 
William of Normandy and Matilda, and Lanfranc was the bearer 
of the good tidings to the Norman court. Who so grateful as 
duke William — who so highly honoured as the monk, Lanfranc, 
the man who had more power over the pontiff than the duke 
himself ? Who so blind, that he cannot see the chain which now 
reached from Normandy to Rome — the links, William, Lanfranc, 
and all the friends of the pope ? We must bear in mind 
that on every mount in Normandy were perched those ill- 
omened birds of prey, who were wetting their beaks, and look- 
ing with hungry eyes towards England, from which they had 
been driven by Godwin and his sons, just as they were about 
to gorge themselves. On the coast of France, also, many a 
disappointed cormorant might be seen, looking eagerly in the 
same direction. 

About this period, Edward sent over to Hungary for his 
nephew, the son of Edmund Ironside, who must by this time 
have been a man far advanced in years, as Edmund himself 



EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 295 

died about 1016, and it seems to have been some time between 
the year 1057 and 1060, when Edward the son of Edmund 
arrived in England, at the invitation of his uncle. It appears 
to have been the intention of Edward the Confessor to have 
appointed his nephew Edward successor to the throne of 
England; but this was prevented by the death of the son of 
Edmund Ironside. Dark hints are thrown out respecting the 
death of this prince, and Harold is hinted at as having hastened 
his end; but there seems to be no solid ground for such suspicion, 
and the rumour was probably circulated by the Normans, whom 
Edward still retained, and who were envious of the power the 
son of Godwin had acquired. There still remained Edgar, the 
grandson of Edmund Ironside, and the son of Edward, who 
died soon after his arrival in England; but the king does not 
appear to have turned his eyes towards him as his successor. 

As the end of Edward the Confessor draws nigh, our atten- 
tion is divided between William of Normandy and earl Harold, 
the son of Godwin; and as we may consider the king as already 
dead, for Ms name scarcely appears again, unless as connected 
with the events which succeeded his death, we will leave him 
to his devotions, and take up the clue which leads us through 
the dark labyrinths to the gloomy end of this portion of our 
history. The clearest light which has been thrown upon the 
mysteries of this period, and the best reason given for Harold's 
visit to Norway, will be found in the following extract from 
Thierry's "Norman Conquest:" — 

" For two years internal peace had reigned in England with- 
out interruption. The animosity of king Edward to the sons of 
Godwin disappeared from want of aliment, and from the habit 
of constantly being with them. Harold, the new chief of this 
popular family, fully rendered to the king that respect and 
deferential submission of which he was so tenacious. Some 
ancient histories tell us that Edward loved and treated him as 
his own son; but, at all events, he did not feel towards him 
that aversion mingled with fear with which Godwin had ever 
inspired him; and he had now no longer any pretext for retain- 
ing, as guarantees against the son, the two hostages whom he 
had received from the father. It will be remembered that these 
hostages had been confided by the suspicious Edward to the care 
of the duke of Normandy. They had, for more than ten years, 
been far from their country, in a sort of captivity. Towards 
the end of the year 1065, Harold, their brother, and their uncle, 



296 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

deerr ' the moment favourable for obtaining their deliverance, 
asked permission of the king to go and demand them in his 
name, and bring them out of exile. Without showing any 
repugnance to release the hostages, Edward appeared greatly- 
alarmed at the project which Harold had formed of going in 
person to Normandy. 'I will not compel you to stay/ said he; 
'but if you go, it will be without my consent; for your journey 
will certainly bring some evil upon yourself and upon your 
country. I know duke William and his crafty mind; he hates 
you, and will grant you nothing unless he gain greatly by it; 
the only way safely to obtain the hostages from him were to send 
some one else.'" 

Harold, however, went, in spite of this friendly warning, 
with his hawk on his wrist, and his hounds baying at his heels, 
hunting and hawking on his way, until he arrived at Bosham in 
Sussex, where he quietly embarked with his followers to visit 
William, duke of Normandy, and fetch back his brother and 
nephew. We must now follow the perilous footsteps of earl 
Harold, and for a short period draw the attention of our readers 
to duke William and the court of Normandy. 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

EARL HAROLD'S VISIT TO NORMANDY, 

" Richard. Now do I play the touch, 

To try if thou be current gold, indeed : — 
Edward lives : — Think now what I would speak. 

Buckingham. Say on, my loving lord. 

Richard. I say I would be king — " 

We have already given what we believe to be the real motive 
of Harold's visit to Normandy. That he went at the request of 
Edward to announce the king's intention of appointing William 
as his successor, the incidents which we shall record, on Harold's 
arrival, clearly disprove; for if such were the case, what occa- 
sion would there have been for the duke to entrap the son of 
Godwin into taking the oath on the relics as he did? 



297 

The Saxon earl had not been long out at sea before a^itrary 
wind arose; and after buffeting about for some time, he was at 
last driven upon the opposite coast of France, near the mouth 
of the river Somme, and upon the territory which was then held 
by Guy, count of Ponthieu, Adhering to the maxims of the 
old sea-kings, the count considered all his own that he either 
found upon the ocean or picked up along the coast; so he seized 
Harold and his followers, and held them prisoners until they 
could pay the ransom he demanded. The captives were taken 
to the fortress of Beaurain, near Montreuil. Harold commu- 
nicated with William of Normandy, and the latter speedily sent 
messengers demanding the release of the prisoners, under the 
plea that they were sent on matters of business to his own court, 
and, for that reason, he was bound to protect them. The duke 
is said to have accompanied his message with a menace. This 
the count paid no regard to, and William, who had many reasons 
for keeping on good terms with his French neighbours, was too 
wary to execute the threat he had thrown out; so he paid the 
ransom, and liberated Harold, whom he was anxious to have in 
his own possession. 

When the Saxon earl reached Rouen, William received him 
with an apparent warmth, and a cordiality, that looked as if he 
had some end to obtain. He overwhelmed him with kindness, 
declared that the hostages were his, and might accompany him 
back at once; but, as a courteous guest, he trusted Harold would 
remain a few days with him, visit the country^ and join in the 
festivals which he had prepared for his welcome. It would have 
required a clearer- sighted and more suspicious man than earl 
Harold appears to have been, to have seen into duke William's 
motives through all this professed friendship; but the Saxon's 
eyes were opened at last; William did not lead him from castle 
to castle for nothing; he well knew the price he had fixed upon 
the knighthood he conferred upon Harold, and never was a glit- 
tering sword, a silver baldric, and a bannered lance, purchased 
more dearly than those the son of Godwin received from the 
son of Robert the Devil. Harold went gaily with his brother 
and nephew to war against the Bretons, at William's request; 
the Saxons distinguished themselves by their valour, and no one 
was praised more in the camp than Harold the Saxon, who, 
with his own hand, had saved several Norman soldiers when 
they were nigh perishing amongst the quicksands of Coesnon. 



298 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

While the war lasted, it is recorded that William and Harold 
slept in the same tent, and ate at the same table. This was the 
first act of the drama in which William played so masterly a 
part. 

The curtain again draws up, and we behold the duke and the 
earl riding lovingly side by side on their way to the castle of 
Bayeux. William begins to talk about his youthful days, of the 
happy hours he had spent with Edward of England, when he was 
in Normandy; no doubt he mentioned some of their boyish pranks, 
told anecdotes that drew a peal of laughter from the unsuspicious 
Saxon, when all at once he said, " When Edward and I lived 
under the same roof, like two brothers, he promised me, that if 
ever he became king of England, he would make me heir to his 
kingdom.'' No doubt the son of Robert the Devil looked down 
upon his saddle-bow, or out of the corner of his keen cunning 
eye, or threw off the sentence as if he had no meaning in it; 
then made some passing remarks upon his horse, or any object 
near at hand. After he had done speaking, Harold, it appears, 
was taken by surprise, and either made no reply, or merely 
uttered some such unmeaning word as " indeed !" when William, 
having ventured one foot upon the ice, tried the other, and thus 
proceeded: u Harold, if thou wouldst aid me in realising this 
promise, be sure that if I obtain the kingdom, whatever thou 
askest of me that shalt thou have." 

Harold, be it remembered, was in the enemy's country, sur- 
rounded by those who had ever been foes to his family; his bro- 
ther and nephew were also, like himself, in duke William's power; 
and there cannot be a doubt but that, if he had openly declared 
himself opposed to the duke's views, neither he nor they would 
again have set foot upon the shores of England. The Saxon 
had no alternative but to appear to acquiesce to his wishes, 
though we can fancy with what an ill grace he seemed to com- 
ply. It was the armed ruffian alone with the victim in his 
power, who, thinking that he can borrow more than he shall get 
by murdering his companion, boldly asks for the loan, and, hav- 
ing through fear extorted the promise, presents a bond, gets it 
signed, then appoints the time and place where it is to be paid; 
and should the victim seek to evade the responsibility which, 
self-preservation alone compelled him to incur, the other up- 
braids him as a perjurer and a villain, proclaims to the world 
what he has done, and gets the consent of all his creditors, who 



EARL HAHOLD's VISIT TO NORMANDY. 299 

hoped to be enriched by the loan, to assist in murdering the 
helpless and unfortunate wretch he has entrapped. 

Having extracted something like a vague promise, William 
then presented the bond, and said, " Since thou consentest to 
serve me, thou must engage to fortify Dover castle, to dig there 
a well of fresh water, and deliver it up, when the time comes, to 
my people. Thou must also give thy sister in marriage to one 
of my barons" (Did he mean queen Editha?) "and thyself 
marry my daughter, Adeliza; moreover, on thy departure, thou 
must leave me, as guarantee for thy promise, one of the two 
hostages thou claimest, and I will restore him to thee in England 
when I come there as king."* 

So far the wily Norman duke had succeeded, and he was now 
resolved to make assurance doubly sure. In both instances he 
had won. And now we see the third act of this " eventful 
history" revealing duke William seated upon his throne in the 
castle of Bayeux; he is surrounded by his nobles. Harold, who 
is ushered into his presence, has not a friend amongst the num- 
ber. William does not yet want " his pound of flesh;" but he is 
resolved to test the validity of the bond he has possessed himself 
of. He objects not to the signature, but wishes others to be wit- 
ness that it is the handwriting of Harold — this admitted, he is 
willing to await the time of payment, and lock it up in that great 
iron-safe — his heart. Not content with living witnesses, this 
ancient Shylock summoned the dead to add solemnity to the oath 
he was about to administer. Had the bones of Godwin been 
in Normandy, there is but little doubt William would have dug 
them up as dumb witnesses. They were not; so he collected all 
the bones of the reputed saints that could be found in the neigh- 
bouring churches. He summoned the priests to strip their shrines; 
a bone or a body was all one to William; a tooth or a toe-nail 
came not amiss to the Norman — all were emptied into the great 
vessel he had prepared for their reception; and how each church 
would pick out its own again concerned not the son of Robert 
the Devil. 

" Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips ; 
Finger of birth-strangled babe, 
Ditch-delivered by a drab." 

So that " the charm was firm and good," was all the duke cared 
* Thierry's " Noramn Conquest," vol. i. p. 148. 



500 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. 



for; and when the relics were ready, the unsuspecting- 
Saxon earl was called in. How the Norman thieves, who had 
been kicked out of England, and been witness to what was pre- 
pared and covered carefully up against Harold's coming, must 
have grinned when they saw the son of Godwin enter. William 
sat upon a throne, holding a drawn sword in his hand. A cru- 
cifix was placed upon the cloth of gold that covered the relics, 
and concealed them entirely from the eyes of Harold; the whole 
formed, no doubt, to resemble a table, when the duke, bowing to 
the Saxon, began thus: " Harold, I require of thee, before this 
noble assembly, to confirm by oath the promises thou hast made 
to me, to aid me to obtain the kingdom of England after the 
death of Edward, to marry my daughter Adeliza, and to send thy 
sister, that I may wed her to one of my barons." Harold swore 
to do all— he had no alternative— so he "grinned and bided his 
time," no more meaning to keep his promise than a man would to 
send a fifty pound note by return of post to the address of the 
rufiian who had met him on a lonely moor at midnight, and pre- 
sented a pistol to his ear. When Harold had sworn, the assem- 
bled nobles exclaimed, "God aid him!" The third act was 
then over, and again the curtain fell; the figure of William was 
seen near the foot-lights, the cloth of gold lying at his feet, and 
Harold looking on the relics on which he had unconsciously 
sworn. Well might the Saxon shudder. William had shown 
himself worthy of the name his father had borne. We 
want but the thunder and the lightning, the red fire and 
the grey spirits, to outdo all that the presiding genius of 
scenic horrors ever invented. Were not the motives so deep, 
devilish, and villanous, we might sit as spectators, and enjoy 
the horrors; but when we know that the whole was real— that 
the motive was serious— that the death's head and cross bones 
were real representatives of the red warm human blood that was 
doomed to flow, ere the terrible tragedy ended; we turn 
away, like Harold, pale and trembling; and as we retreat, we 
look round in affright, and are still followed by the skeletons of 
the dead. 

From a land filled with such plots and pitfalls, Harold was 
glad to escape under any promise or at any price, and though 
he brought away his nephew with him, he was compelled to 
leave his younger brother in the hands of the Norman. 

The duke of Normandy was a man who boggled at nothing, so 






s//^/;/^/y^ssyjAx'/uj/ cms Me/,-yz#£cj ^V/^/..^//^. 



301 

long as it aided him in accomplishing his ends. Whether he at- 
tempted to win a kingdom or a wife, he considered all means 
fair that he could avail himself of. Thus, after having for some 
time courted Matilda, daughter of Baldwin, earl of Flanders, 
and found himself objected to by the father on account of his 
birth, and by the maiden because she was already in love with 
another, he hit upon the strangest stratagem that a lover ever 
had recourse to, to make his way into a fair lady's affections. 
Weary of sighing and suing, of continued entreaty which was 
only met by successive rejections, he resolved boldly to win the 
inner fortress by battering down the outward walls, and carrying 
by force that citadel, the lady's heart, which he had so long 
besieged. Any other lover would have been content with 
carrying off his fair captive. Duke William acted very differ- 
ently. He began by beating his prisoner into compliance, 
leaving it to herself to decide between another thrashing and 
surrendering at once; neither did he take her in her dis- 
habille, but waited until the lady was very neatly attired; and 
lest he should kill her in the strange way he took of displaying 
his affection, he first permitted her to attend mass. This over, 
he began his suit in downright earnest. He waylaid her in the 
street of Bruges, and after rolling her very lovingly in the dirt, 
and making her, as a lady might say, a perfect fright, he then 
by way of finish, and as a proof of the strength of his affection, 
administered to her a few good solid hearty cuffs, and without 
either stopping to pick her up or wishing her good-bye, he 
mounted his horse and galloped off. This new mode of wooing 
had its desired effect. Matilda had often been threatened by 
Love, but never before had he visited her in such a substantial 
shape. She little dreamed that the fluttering of his purple 
pinions after such soft hoverings, and gentle breathings, would 
end in downright hard blows from his clenched fists, but finding 
such was the case, she went home, rubbed her bruises, changed 
her attire, and got married as quickly as possible. 

Matilda herself, taking a lesson out of the same book, resolved 
that the lover who had so long stood between herself and Wil- 
liam's affections, should not escape scathless, after what she had 
suffered for his sake; and, although it was long after her mar- 
riage, she obtained possession of the estates of the Saxon noble- 
man, Brihtric, who had had the misfortune to be sent ambas- 
sador to her father's court when she first fell in love with him; 



302 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

and the pretty tigress, now finding that her claws were full- 
grown, in revenge for the slight she had endured, and the 
thrashing she had borne, after having robbed him of all he pos- 
sessed, threw him into prison, and was the cause of his death. 
A frail fair maiden, the niece of a Kentish nobleman, whom 
Matilda suspected of conquering the heart of her husband while 
he was conquering England, it is believed fared little better 
in her hands, but that she caused her to be mutilated like 
Elgiva of old, and either ham-strung her, or slit open the beau- 
tiful mouth which had won the Conqueror from his allegiance to 
his savage lady. For this cruel deed, Matilda is said to have 
received another beating from her husband, and this time from 
a bridle which he brought in his hand for the purpose.* 

When Harold returned to England, he presented himself 
before king Edward, and made him acquainted with all that had 
occurred between duke William and himself in Normandy. 
The king became pale and pensive, and said, " Did I not fore- 
warn thee that I knew this William, and that thy journey 
would bring great evils both upon thyself and upon thy nation? 
Heaven grant that they happen not in my time." These words, 
which are given both by Eadmar and Roger of Hovedon, 
although they prove that it was far from the wish of Edward 
that duke William should be his successor, still leave the mat- 
ter doubtful, whether or not in his younger years he had rashly 
promised to leave him the crown at his death. William, how- 
ever, had already obtained a great advantage. An oath, sworn 
upon relics, no matter under what circumstances, was sure, if 
violated, to be visited with the fullest vengeance of the ecclesi- 
astical power; and we have already shown that England at this 
time was looked upon with an unfavourable eye by the church 
of Rome. The rumour of the oath which Harold had taken 
was soon made known in England. " Gloomy reports flew from 
mouth to mouth; fears and alarms spread abroad, without any 
positive cause for alarm; predictions were dug up from the 
graves of the saints of the old time. One of these prophesied 
calamities such as the Saxons had never experienced since their 
departure from the banks of the Elbe; another announced the 

* Miss Strickland's Lives of the Queens of England, vol. i. pp. 6, 49, 70. 
For the love and affection which is said to have existed between William and 
Matilda, we must refer our readers to the above work, to which we are indebted 
for these revolting facts. 



earl harold's visit to normandy. 303 

invasion of a people from France, who would subject the English 
people, and abase their glory in the dust for ever. All these 
rumours, hitherto unheeded or unknown, perhaps indeed pur- 
posely forged at the time, were now thoroughly credited."* 

In addition to all these imaginary terrors, and before the mo- 
narch was borne to his tomb, a large comet became visible in 
England. The greatest Danish army that ever landed upon our 
island never spread such consternation as was produced by this 
fiery messenger. Such a phenomenon as this was but wanted to 
crown their superstitious horrors. The people assembled to gaze 
on it with pale and terror-stricken countenances in the streets 
of the towns and villages. In their eyes it denoted death, deso- 
lation, famine, invasion, slaughter, and " all the ills which flesh is 
heir to." A monk of Malmesbury, who professed the study of 
astronomy, gave utterance to the following ominous declaration: 
— " Thou hast, then, returned at length; thou that wilt cause so 
many mothers to weep! many years have I seen thee shine; but 
thou seemest to me more terrible now, that thou announcest the 
ruin of my country." 

Edward never held up his head again, nor uttered another 
cheerful word after the return of Harold. From that time, until 
he expired, he scarcely ever ceased to reproach himself for 
having caused the war which hung so threateningly over 
England, by entrusting foreigners, instead of his own country- 
men, with the affairs of his government. Day and night 
these thoughts beset him, and he endeavoured in vain to drive 
them away by religious exercises, and by adding donation upon 
donation to the churches and monasteries. In vain did the 
priests pray — in vain did he seek respite by listening to the 
Bible, which was read to him, for those passages of sublime and 
fearful grandeur which figuratively announce the coming of the 
Most High, to punish the nations who had rebelled against His 
commandments, fell upon his ear like an ominous knell. "Writh- 
ing upon his death-bed, he would exclaim, " The Lord hath 
bent His bow — He hath prepared His sword, and hath mani- 
fested his anger." Such words struck horror into the souls of 
all who surrounded his bed, with the exception of Stigand, the 
archbishop of Canterbury, who, it is said, smiled with contempt 
upon those who trembled at the ravings of a sick old man. 

* Thierry's Norman Conquest, vol. i. p. 151. 



304 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

According to the authority of the Saxon Chronicle, Eadmar, 
Roger of Hoveden, Florence of Worcester, Simeon of Durham, 
and partially by William of Malmesbury, and Thierry, a careful 
ransacker of ancient chronicles, it is said, " However weak the 
mind of the aged Edward, he had the courage, before he expired, 
to declare to the chiefs who consulted him as to the choice of his 
successor, that, in Ms opinion, the man worthy to reign was 
Harold, the son of Godwin." Edward just lived to see the 
opening of the most eventful year in our annals — that in which 
England was invaded by the Normans. He expired on the eve 
of Epiphany, in the sixty-sixth year of his age, and was buried 
in Westminster Abbey, where his shrine, though mutilated by 
time and rude hands, still remains standing in that edifice which 
his own piety caused him to rebuild, and which illness alone pre- 
vented him from being present to witness its consecration. He 
was long remembered by the Saxons for the body of laws he 
compiled, which his oppressed countrymen made their rallying 
cry, whenever they gained an ascendancy over their stern task- 
masters, the Normans. His conduct to Editha, doubtless, arose 
from his dislike to earl Godwin, and the persuasions of his 
Norman favourites, for he seems to have ever been a man of a 
wavering mind, and who seldom acted from an opinion of his 
own. With him perished the last king who was legitimately 
descended from the great Alfred; for although Harold was a 
Saxon, and displayed as much military and political genius as 
any (excepting Alfred) in whose veins flowed the blood of kings, 
he was still the son of the cowherd Godwin, a humble, but more 
honourable line of descent than that of William the Bastard, 
against whom he was so soon to measure his strength, for he 
was at this period busily though silently preparing for the inva- 
sion of England. 

The Danes were heathens; they professed not Christianity — 
this Norman did; yet when England was ruled over by a king 
who had been elected by the voice of the whole witena-gemot, 
an election that had scarcely ever been disputed, this Norman 
bastard, this son of Robert the Devil, came over with his hired 
cut-throats, and armed robbers, and having drenched a once 
happy country with blood, he covered its smiling shores and 
cheerful fields with desolation and blackened ashes. 



305 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

ACCESSION OF HAROLD, THE SON OF GODWIN. 

" You have conspired against our royal person, 
Joined with an enemy proclaimed, and from his coffers 
Eeceived the golden earnest of our death ; 
Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughter, 
His princes and his peers to servitude, 
His subjects to oppression and contempt, 
And his whole kingdom unto desolation." — Shakspebe. 

Harold, the last Saxon who sat upon the throne of England, 
was elected king by a large assembly of chiefs and nobles in 
London, on the evening of the very day which saw the body of 
Edward the Confessor consigned to the tomb. He was crowned 
by the archbishop Stigand, who, although labouring under the 
ban of the court of Rome, boldly officiated at this important 
ceremony. The archbishop is represented in the Bayeux tapestry 
as standing on the left hand of Harold, who is seated upon the 
throne, on the day of his coronation. Edgar Atheling, the 
grandson of Edmund Ironside, was still alive, and was the un- 
doubted heir to the crown, though none of the nobles appear to 
have advocated his claim. Harold was honourably and legally 
elected by the witenagemot, which, as we have shown on several 
occasions, had by its unanimous consent frequently set the right- 
ful heir aside, and placed upon the throne such a successor as 
was considered most competent to govern, One of our old 
chroniclers, Holinshed, says, " He studied by all means which 
way to win the people's favour, and omitted no occasion whereby 
he might show any token of bounteous liberality, gentleness, and 
courteous behaviour towards them. The grievous customs, also, 
and taxes which his predecessor had raised, he either abolished 
or diminished; the ordinary wages of his servants and men of 
war he increased; and, further, showed himself very well bent 
to all virtue and goodness." Sharon Turner wisely and cau- 
tiously observes, that '' the true character of Harold cannot be 
judged from his actions in the emergency of competition; as he 
perished before the virtues of his disposition could be distin- 
guished from those of his convenience." Harold commenced his 



306 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

reign by restoring things to their old Saxon forms; he affixed 
Saxon signaturestohis deeds, instead of theNornian seal. Although 
he did not go so far as to banish all the Normans from his court, 
it is not improbable that such as were permitted to remain did so 
at the intercession of Edward on his death-bed. It was a Norman 
who bore the tidings of the death of Edward to duke William. 

The duke was engaged in his park near Rouen when he re- 
ceived the news of Harold's accession; he was busy trying 
some new arrows when the messenger arrived. In a moment 
he became thoughtful, crossed the Seine, and hastened to his 
palace; when he entered the great hall, he began to pace hur- 
riedly to and fro, occasionally fastening and untying the cord 
that secured his cloak, then again sitting down for a moment, 
and the next instant hastily arising. He was evidently stag- 
gered by Harold's boldness; not probably that he expected his 
aid, but at the suddenness with which he had assumed the crown. 
For some time no one dared speak to the " fiery duke;" all 
stood apart, either in silence or conversing in subdued whispers. 
An officer at last entered, who either being admitted to more 
familiarity, or possessing more courage than the rest, thus 
accosted the angry Norman: " My lord," said he, " why not com- 
municate your intelligence to us? It is rumoured that the 
king of England is dead, and that Harold has broken his 
faith to you, by seizing the kingdom." " They report truly," 
answered the duke, sternly and briefly; " my anger is touching 
his death, and the injury Harold has done tome." This courtier 
must have been well acquainted with William's designs, and we 
can readily fancy the grim smile that faded over the duke's coun- 
tenance when the officer had completed his harangue, which was 
as follows: " Chafe not at a thing that may be amended. There 
is no remedy for Edward's death; but for the wrong which 
Harold has done, there is. Yours is the right. You have good 
knights; strike boldly — well begun is half done."* No one knew 
this better than the duke himself; he now found that he could 
not obtain the kingdom by trickery — that all the trouble he had 
taken to muster the relics together had been labour in vain, — 
that fighting in a distant country was an expensive business, — 
so he went in to consult with his councillors— to consider the 
ways and means, to reckon up the cost of this great expected 

* Thierry, vol. ii. p. 154. 



ACCESSION OF HAROLD, THE SON OF GODWIN. 307 

gain, and to see which would be the best and cheapest way of 
executing the few thousands of murders which it was necessary 
to perpetrate before he could gain possession. The evil genius 
of the son of Robert the Devil was equal to the emergency. 

We must now return to Tostig, who, it will be remembered, 
when Harold advocated the cause of the oppressed Danes, fled 
to Flanders, and found shelter at the court of earl Baldwin, 
whose daughter, Judith, he had married. Earl Baldwin, it will 
be borne in mind, was the father of Matilda; thus, William the 
Norman, and Tostig, the son of Godwin, and brother to king 
Harold, had married two sisters. Tostig seems never to have 
forgiven his brother for deciding in favour of Morkar, the son 
of Algar, — who had supplanted him in the government of 
Northumbria; and no sooner did he hear that Harold was seated 
upon the throne of England, than he hastily left Flanders, and 
hurried to Normandy to urge his brother-in-law, duke William, 
to commence hostilities against England. Although the plans 
of the Norman duke were not yet matured, William had 
no objection to set brother against brother; thinking, no doubt, 
that any attack would serve to divert the attention of Harold 
from the main invasion, and give him a better opportunity of 
striking the meditated blow. William supplied Tostig with 
several vessels, promising him also, as soon as he was prepared, 
to come to his assistance. With these ships, which were in- 
sufficient for the attack, Tostig sailed into the Baltic in search 
of allies, promising the kingdom to any one who would assist 
him to conquer it. For this purpose, he sought out the king of 
Denmark, who was related to him on his mother's side; but the 
Danish sovereign, well aware that thousands of his subjects were 
then living peacefully and happily in England, reprimanded him 
sternly for attempting to invade his brother's dominions, and 
refused to assist him. Nothing daunted by his ill success, 
Tostig next steered to the coast of Norway, where Harald 
Hardrada, the last of the bold Scandinavian sea-kings, reigned. 

Few men of that day had seen more service than the Nor- 
wegian king, Harald; he had fought endless battles, both by 
sea and land, — had, in turn, set out to pillage as a pirate, and to 
conquer and subdue with all the right and might of a sea-king. 
He had fought in the east, visited Constantinople, enrolled him- 
self in a troop of his own countrymen who, by their valour 
and daring, had already distinguished themselves both in Asia 

x 2 



308 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

and Africa; and, though brother to a king, he had, with his 
battle-axe on his shoulders, timed his footsteps to a march as 
he mounted guard, like a humble sentinel, at the sculptured 
gates of the Asiatic palaces. Having enriched himself by 
serving as a " soldier of fortune," he became weary of the out- 
ward grandeur and internal languor of these effeminate courts, 
pined for the fresh air which blew about his own bluff head- 
lands, and longed again to feel the cold sea spray beating upon 
his sun-tanned cheeks, and to guide his sea-horse over the ever- 
moving billows. So one day he entered the palace with his 
battle-axe over his shoulder, and said that it was his intention 
to return to Norway. His resignation was received with 
reluctance: the Asiatic king would rather have parted with a 
hundred of his followers than with Harald Hardrada. The 
Norwegian soon found it was his intention to detain him by 
force; so, seizing a ship, he carried with him a beautiful princess 
whose affections he had won, and left the imperial palace to 
guard itself. Once upon the sea, Harald was in no hurry to 
reach home. He had still room in his ship for more treasures, 
— he had his beautiful and willing captive for a companion, — 
his ship filled with grim warriors, who, at his bidding, were 
ready to grapple with the most formidable dangers; so, after a 
long piratical cruise along the coast of Sicily, during which he 
had laden his vessel with treasures, he returned home, raised an 
army, and laid claim to the throne of Norway. He soon suc- 
ceeded in obtaining a share of the dominions. To this valorous 
vikingr, so renowned for his perilous adventures and daring 
deeds, Tostig came for assistance, promising him England if he 
could but win it. Hardrada was easily persuaded; he loved to 
be where blows rained heavily, where dangers hemmed him in 
— he seemed to breathe more freely where the current of air 
was stirred by the struggle of arms, — so promised that, as soon 
as the ice melted and liberated his fleet, he would set sail for 
England.* 

Impatient to commence the attack, Tostig landed upon the 
northern coast of England, at the head of such adventurers as 
he could muster, and began to pillage the towns and villages 
north of the Humber. He was opposed by Morkar, the 

* Thierry's "Norman Conquest." 



ACCESSION OF HAROLD, THE SON OF GODWIN, 309 

governor of Northumbria, and compelled to retreat into Scot- 
land, where he awaited the arrival of Harald Hardrada. 

While these events were in progress, the duke of Normandy 
was not inactive, but despatched a messenger to England, who, 
arriving at the court of Harold, thus addressed the Saxon king: 
— " William, duke of Normandy, reminds thee of the oath which 
thou didst swear to him, by mouth and by hand, on good and 
holy relics." The son of Godwin answered, — " It is true that I 
swore such an oath to duke William, but I swore it under com- 
pulsion; I promised that which did not belong to me, and which 
I could not perform; for my royalty is not mine, and I cannot 
divest myself of it without the consent of my country, nor, with- 
out the consent of the country, can I marry a foreign wife As 
to my sister, whom the duke claims, to marry her to one of his 
chiefs, she died this year; — would he have me send him her 
body?" 

William, who was not yet ready to commence operations 
against England, after having received Harold's answer, sent the 
Saxon king another message, requesting him to fulfil at least a 
portion of the promise he had made, and if he would not enter into 
all the conditions he had sworn to, to marry his daughter, accord- 
ing to promise. But Harold was resolved not to fulfil a single 
promise which had been forced from him under such circum- 
stances, therefore sent back a flat refusal, and a few days after 
married a Saxon lady, the sister of Morkar, governor of North- 
umbria. 

From the very moment that the news of this marriage reached 
the Norman court, all concession was at an end. William swore 
a solemn oath, and vowed, by the splendour of God, that within 
a year he would appear in person, and demand the whole of 
the debt, and " pursue the perjurer to the very places where 
he thought he had the surest and firmest footing." 

Leaving duke William busily preparing for his invasion, we 
must again glance at England, which Harald Hardrada was 
already on his way to attack, with a large fleet. A feeling of 
fear and discontent seems to have reigned amid the Norwegian 
soldiers. Many of them were disturbed by signs and omens — 
others believed that they had prophetic revelations during their 
sleep. " One of them," says Thierry, " dreamed that he saw 
his companions land on the coast of England, and in the pre- 
sence of the English army; that in the front of this army, 



310 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. 

riding upon a wolf, was a woman of gigantic stature; the wolf 
held in his jaws a human body, dripping with gore, and when 
he had devoured it, the woman gave him another. A second 
soldier dreamed that the fleet sailed, and that a flock of crows, 
vultures, and other birds of prey, were perched upon the masts 
and sails of the vessels. On an adjacent rock a woman was 
seated, holding a drawn sword in her hand, and looking at and 
counting the vessels. She said to the birds, ' Go without fear, 
you shall have enough to eat, and you shall have plenty to choose 
from, for I go with them.' " After the relation of such dreams 
as these had cast a gloom over the whole fleet, every petty dis- 
aster which would have passed unnoticed at another time, was 
construed into an evil omen. Thus, when Harald Hardrada, 
who was a tall, heavy man, placed his foot on board the royal 
vessel, they fancied that the weight of his body either tilted it 
aside, or pressed it down more than usual; and such a trifling 
incident as this could not be viewed without disheartening the 
soldiers. 

But the bold sea-king was not to be affrighted by such airy 
shadows as these. He sailed along the eastern coast of Scot- 
land, until he came to where Tostig's vessels were anchored; 
when uniting their forces, they made their way to Scarborough, 
and attacked the town. Here Hardrada was again in his ele- 
ment. The Saxon and Danish inhabitants made a bold defence. 
In vain did the sea-king thunder at the gates with his battle- 
axe — he could not gain admission. A portion of the town of 
Scarborough at this time lay stretched out at the foot of a high 
and commanding rock. The bold Norwegian had stormed too 
many towns to be daunted by trifles; so summoning his fol- 
lowers to cut down all the trees which grew at hand, he raised 
an enormous pile of trunks and branches upon the summit of 
the rock, and firing it, with the stubble and dried grass which 
he had placed below, he raised such a conflagration as the in- 
habitants had never before witnessed. While the high pile 
was crackling, and blazing, and lighting up the country for 
miles around, he ordered his soldiers to roll down the burning 
mass upon the houses at the foot of the rock. The gates were 
speedily opened; and as the inhabitants rushed out, the sea-king 
and his followers entered to pillage the town. 

Leaving Scarborough behind, they quitted the German ocean 
and entered the Humber, and sailed round the wolds of York- 



ACCESSION OP HAROLD, THE SON OP GODWIN. 311 

shire into the Ouse, for Tostig was eager to reach York, and 
instal himself once more in the seat of his former government. 
Morkar, who had succeeded him, and whose sister king Harold 
had married, mustered his forces together, and gave battle to 
the invaders; he was, however, compelled to retreat, and escap- 
ing into York, which was strongly fortified, he shut himself up, 
and left the besiegers encamped around the walls. 

Meantime king Harold was in the south, waiting the arrival 
of duke William, for with a powerful army he had kept a watch 
upon the coast nearest Norway night and day. But the summer 
was now over, and autumn having set in, Harold, it is said, 
misled by a message which he is reported to have received from 
Baldwin, earl of Flanders, was led to believe that the duke of 
Normandy would not commence his threatened invasion until 
the following spring. But whether this report was true or not, 
the son of Godwin well knew that his kingdom would be ex- 
posed to greater danger if he allowed two armies to march 
upon him at once; that with the Norwegians advancing from 
the north, and the Normans from the south, he should be 
hemmed in between two enemies; so turning his face towards 
York, he resolved to attack those who had already landed, to 
clear the ground, and make more space for the new comers. 
Having once decided, Harold lost not a moment, but riding 
himself at the head of his chosen troops, he by rapid marches 
reached York, on the evening of the fourth day after his depar- 
ture. The next day was appointed for the surrender of the 
city; for many of the inhabitants, fearful that the enemy would 
assail their city as they had before done Scarborough, had re- 
solved to throw open the gates on the following morning, and 
accept again their ancient governor Tostig. Harold, apprised 
of this, ordered such of the citizens as were faithful to resume 
their arms, keep a close guard over the gates, and on no account 
to allow any one to pass over to the Norwegian camp during 
the night. Encouraged by the tidings of the arrival of the 
Saxon army, the citizens remained true to their trust; nor were 
Hardrada nor Tostig aware, until the next day, that Harold was 
encamped in the neighbourhood. 

The morning ushered in one of those bright and beautiful 
days, which look as if summer had come back again to peep at 
the earth before her final departure; for although it was now 
near the close of September, and the harvest-fields were silent . 



312 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

the sunlight broke as brilliantly upon the grey old walls of the 
city of York as ever it had done while the green old waysides 
of England were garlanded with the wild roses of June. The 
day being hot and bright, the Norwegians, unconscious that 
they were so near an enemy, had left their coats of mail on 
board of the ships, which were at some distance from the city. 
As they were marching up to enter the gates, as they supposed, 
peaceably, and in accordance with the terms which were agreed 
upon the previous day, the king of Norway beheld a cloud of 
dust rising in the distance, amid which his experienced eye 
instantly detected the glittering of arms in the sunshine. " Who 
are these men advancing towards us?" said Hardrada to Tostig. 
"It can only be Englishmen coming to demand pardon and implore 
our friendship," answered Tostig; but scarcely had he uttered 
the words, before a large and well ordered body of men in 
armour stood out clear and distinct in the distance, headed by 
Harold, the last king of the Saxons. "The enemy — the enemy!" 
resounded from line to line; and three horsemen were instantly 
despatched with all speed to bring up the remainder of the army, 
who were behind in the camp; and the king of Norway, unfurl- 
ing his banner, which he called the "Ravager of the world!" 
drew up his army around it in the form of a half moon, the 
outer verge of which extended towards Harold, while the 
rounded wings, which bent back, were filled up with the same 
strength and depth as the centre. The first line stood with 
the ends of their lances planted in the ground and held in an 
upward and slanting direction, with the points turned towards 
the Saxons. The second line held their spears above the 
shoulders of the first, ready to plunge them into the riders when 
their horses had rushed upon the points of the foremost spears. 
They stood shoulder to shoulder, and shield to shield, while the 
king of Norway, on his black charger, rode along the ranks, 
encouraging his men to stand firm, and, although without their 
cuirasses, to fear not the edges of blue steel. " The sun glitters 
upon our helmets," said he; " that is enough for brave men." 
While Hardrada was riding round, and encouraging his men, 
his heavy black war horse stumbled, and he fell to the ground; 
but he sprang up again in an instant, and leaped into his saddle. 
Harold, who stood near enough to see his fall, inquired who that 
large and majestic person was. When answered that it was the 
king of Norway, Harold replied, " His fortune will be disastrous.'* 



ACCESSION OF HAROLD, THE SON QF GODWIN. 313 

The sea-king wore on that day a blue tunic, while his head was 
surmounted by a splendid helmet, both of which had attracted 
the attention of the Saxon king. 

Before the battle commenced, Harold ordered a score of his 
warriors, who were well mounted, and armed from head to heel, 
to advance towards the front of the Norwegian lines, and sum- 
mon his brother Tostig to appear. The Saxon rode out of the 
Norwegian ranks, when one of the horsemen exclaimed, " Thy 
brother greets thee by me, and offers thee peace, his friendship, 
and thy ancient honours." Tostig replied, " These words are 
very different from the insults and hostilities they made me submit 
to a year ago; but if I accept them, what shall be given to my 
faithful ally, Harald Hardrada, king of Norway?" " He," 
answered the Saxon messenger, "shall have seven feet of ground, 
or, as he is a very tall man, perhaps a little more." Tostig 
bade the messengers depart, and tell his brother Harold to pre- 
pare for fight; for, true to his word, the Saxon was resolved to 
stand or fall with the brave Norwegian sea-king.* 

Near the commencement of the battle, the Norwegian king 
was slain by a random arrow, which pierced his throat. The 
first charge of the Saxon cavalry was received firmly on the 
points of the implanted spears, and it was not until the English 
horsemen began to retreat in some confusion, when the Nor- 
wegians were tempted to break through their hitherto impene- 
trable ranks, that the Saxons obtained any advantage. While 
the combat still raged fiercely under the command of Tostig, 
Harold once more singled out his brother in the battle-field, 
dispatched to him a messenger, and again offered him .both 
peace and life, with permission to the Norwegians to return to 
their own country unmolested; but Tostig had resolved to 
win either death or victory. He was determined to accept 
no favour from his brother's hands, and the arrival of fresh 
troops from the ships, who were completely armed, seemed to 
revive fresh hopes in his bosom. But these new troops were 
not in a fit state to enter the field. Heated with the rapidity 
with which they had marched, under a weight of heavy armour, 
that the sun seemed to burn through, they offered but a feeble 
resistance to the charge of the Saxon cavalry; and when a 
rumour ran through the field that their standard was captured, 

* Turner's Anglo-Saxons, vol. ii. p. 396. 



314 BISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

Tostig and most of the Norwegian leaders slain, they gladly 
accepted the peace which king Harold for the third time offered 
them. Olafj the son of the king of Norway, having sworn 
friendship to Harold, returned to his own country with the sad 
remnant of his father's fleet. " The same wind," says Thierry, 
"which swelled the Saxon banners, as they fluttered over a 
victorious field, filled the Norman sails, and wafted a more 
formidable enemy towards the coast of Sussex." The ominous 
curtain was drawn up for the last time, which in a few days was 
doomed to fall down, and shut out for ever the last of the 
Saxons that ever wore the crown of England. 



315 



®5e Gorman In&asion 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

ENGLAND INVADED BY THE NORMANS. 

" Down royal state ! all you sage counsellors, hence ! 

And to the English court assemble now. 

Irom every region, apes of idleness ! 

Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum ? 

Have you a ruffian, that will swear, drink, dance, 
Bevel the night; rob, murder, and commit 

lhe oldest sins the newest kind of ways ' 
Be happy, he will trouble you no more • * 
England shall double gild his treble guilt; 
England shaM giye him office, honour, migmv'-SHAKSPEBE. 

s^ir Zt W ^^ ° Ur - readerS t0 N <*mandy, to the life and 
stir and busy preparation which nearly eight hundred years 

theTextterr/. f™ ^ °f liv ^ and movin S men who 
tnen existed, and endeavour to look at them, as if they still lived 
and were actuated then as now. At the bus^ workmSwho were 

WsTht W? 1 ^ Shi f/ lab0U1 ^ a11 the -ore eagertyS 
LTmandts of ft SG ™ l f\ o£thQ war they might becon/the 

Se sm'ths Ld *™ *? 7 *"* helping to con ^^t-at 

tiie smiths and armourers, who were then forcing lances and 

don°; ^ and n L COat : ° f Mai1 ' "* that when b theVwork Tas 

lords' and t 7*% ^ ** sh ° uld in En S land *™°™ great 
lords, and have a score or two of followers to carry before them 

At Kr e wf *5 ?* ° Wn hard hands had i—ut 
ttowc^lTZZ h 7r ng , ^™ons, »d the embroiderer 
^S^^n5 gnreS ° f W and bulls ' heads > dra S ons > and ^ 
thev should ZT T • P T° n ° r banner > fon <% Naming 
th7banner th. ? ** "V^ lord ^ halls of E ^ land ™th 

above twt!d n l n f w ^ km »8Wp of their hands" fluttering 

anr t himbl »&£ ** ^ n ° longer " knights of *» sheai *f 
and thimble, should throw aside the goose and needle, and become 



316 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

great rulers in conquered England, At the cooper, who thundered 
away cheerfully as he drove his hoops down the casks, believing 
that when his work was finished, he should on the other side of 
the ocean become a count; the shoemaker, who hammered and 
stitched for every shoeless vagabond who came toiling up the 
dusty roads from Maine and Anjou, under promise that he should 
have the fairest Saxon wife he could capture. The tinker, who 
had clouted pots and pans, but now turned his hand to the 
riveting of helmets, under the hope of becoming a rich thane 
when he landed in Britain. For hedgers and ditchers, weavers, 
and drovers — all the scum and outcast of Poitou, and Brittany, 
France, and Flanders, now came in rags and tatters — the "shoe- 
less-stocracy" from Aquitaine and Burgundy, hurried up 
under the hope of one day becoming the aristocracy of England — ■ 
some offered to murder and burn for their food and lodging only — - 
others brought their bread and cheese and garlic, ready bundled 
up, and were willing to slay and desolate, and do any damnable 
deed for their passage alone, so that they might be allowed to 
pick up a stray Saxon princess or two, or take possession of any 
old comfortable castle, when the burning and murdering were 
over. Such a collection of thieves and vagabonds, and un-hung 
rascals, were never covered in under the hatches of all the ships 
that have carried out convicts since the day that England first 
discharged its cargoes of vice and wretchedness upon the shores 
of Australia. All these ragged and unprincipled rascals — no 
matter from what quarter they came — were instantly set at 
work; some, who were fit for nothing else, rubbed and scrubbed 
and polished corslets and helmets, shields and spurs; others 
sharpened spears and pikes and javelins, grinding and rubbing 
the points upon any stone they could find; many were beasts of 
burthen, and toiled from morning till night, in carrying stores 
to the ships; and all these ragamuffins were destined to sail 
under a banner, which the pope himself had consecrated, and 
under a bull to which a ring was appended, containing one of 
the hairs of St. Peter set in a diamond of great value* All 
these dogs in doublets, hounds in armour, murderers in mail, 
cut-throats in corslets, and robbers at heart, were, about eight 
hundred years ago, congregated on that great mustering-ground 
of villany, Normandy; and there they matured their plans for 
breaking into the peaceful homes, and slaying the unoffending 
inhabitants of England. 



ENGLAND INVADED BY THE NORMANS. 317 

The Evil One, doubtless, cast his triumphant eye over that vast 
assembly, then hurried off to enlarge his fiery dominion against 
their coming. 

Before setting out on his invasion, the crafty Norman had, by 
laying an accusation of sacrilege against Harold, at the court of 
Rome, obtained permission to bring back England to the obedi- 
ence of the holy church, and to enforce the payment of the tax 
of Peter's-pence. Added to this, he got a bull of excommunica- 
tion against the Saxon king and his adherents; and armed with 
such credentials, he set out to murder, burn, and desolate, under 
the sanction of the holy church. Thus, William was armed with 
a power more dreaded, in that superstitious age, by the blinded 
and ignorant multitude, than the edge of the sword. Nor is it 
probable, considering the breach which existed between England 
and Rome, that the pontiff for a moment took into consideration 
the circumstances under which William extorted the oath from 
Harold. Besides obtaining the vindictive sanction of that church 
which professed only peace and good-will towards all mankind — 
whose harshest emblem was a pastoral crook, with which to 
draw back tenderly the sheep that had wandered from the fold — 
but who, instead of this, consecrated (solemn mockery!) the ban- 
ner which was so soon to wave over a field steeped with the 
blood of Christians. Besides obtaining this unholy power, the 
Norman duke made use of all the duplicity he was master of, to 
persuade and compel his subjects to furnish the funds which were 
so necessary to fit out his expedition. He summoned his brothers, 
by the mother's side, Eudes and Robert, sons of the old tanner 
of Falaise, who had now turned down the sleeves of their dou- 
blets, cast aside their leathern aprons, and having got rid of the 
aroma of the tan-pit, one had become bishop of Bayeux, and 
the other count of Mortain. These, together with his barons, 
summoned to the conference, pledged themselves, not only to 
serve him with their body and their goods, but even to the 
selling or mortgaging of their estates, although they were pretty 
sure, in case of success, of having whatever they might advance 
returned to them an hundred-fold. They were of opinion, that 
those who were not so likely to become partakers of the spoil, 
should be compelled to contribute to the cost. On this hint, 
which was probably his own, duke William convoked a large 
assembly of men from all professions and stations of life in Nor- 
mandy, amongst whom were many of the richest merchants in 



318 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

Ms dominions. When they met, he explained his wants, and 
solicited their assistance. They listened, then withdrew, in order 
to consult each other as to what measures should be taken. 

Seldom had there been such a hubbub in Normandy as this 
assembly presented. Some, whom there is but little doubt had 
previously made their arrangements with either the duke or his 
officials, were ready to give ships, money, or anything they pos- 
sessed; others, who had come to no understanding as to what 
return was to be made, would give nothing, but said that they 
were already burthened with more debts than they could pay. 
In the midst of this confusion, when fifty were talking like one, 
and they could scarcely hear each other speak for their own 
clamour, William Fitz-Osbern, the seneschal, or ducal lieutenant 
of Normandy, entered the hall, and raising his voice high above 
the rest, he exclaimed, " Why dispute ye thus? He is your 
lord— he has need of you; it were better your duty to make your 
offers, and not to await his request. If you fail him now, 
and he gain his end, he will remember it; prove, then that 
you love him, and act accordingly." "Doubtless" cried the 
opponents, « he is our lord; but is it not enough for us to pay 
him his dues? We owe him no aid beyond the seas; he has 
already enough oppressed us with his wars; let him fail m his 
new enterprise, and our country is undone.' 

It was at last resolved that Fitz-Osbern should lead the way, 
and make the best terms he could with the duke. He did; and 
thev followed him probably not further than the next apartment, 
where William was awaiting their decision; and great must have 
been their astonishment when the seneschal commenced his ora- 
tion. In vain did they shrug up their shoulders, lift up hen 
eyes, and exclaim, « Mo, no! we did not say this; we will not 
do that." Onward plunged Fitz-Osbern deeper and deeper, 
declaring that they were the most loyal and zealous peoplem 
the world-that they were ready to serve him here, there, and 
everywhere,-that they would give him all they possessed; and 
more than that, that those who had supplied him with two 
minted soldiers would now furnish four. In vain they roared 
out " No no! we will serve him in his own country, but no- 
where beside." Fitz-Osbern had in his imagination jerked them 
across the ocean, and furnished William with an army in no time; 



* Thierry's Norman Couguest, vol. i. p. 



160. 



ENGLAND INVADED BY THE NORMANS. 319 

and when lie had finished, he left them to settle as they best 
could with the duke, — for there is no doubt the matter had been 
previously concocted between the seneschal and William. 

The duke of Normandy either was, or pretended to be sur- 
prised and enraged beyond measure. Could his seneschal have 
deceived him, or could they be so disloyal as to refuse to furnish 
him with the aid he required? Such a matter must be looked into 
— and it was. He sent separately for the most influential of the 
leaders; had a private conference with each; and, when they 
came out, they were ready to grant him everything. He gave 
them sealed letters for security; and what they contained we may 
readily guess — for the man who consented to portion out England 
to his followers before they had conquered it, was not likely to 
stick at giving away all Europe [on parchment] to secure his 
ends. By such tricks as these, sorry are we to write it, he ob- 
tained the aid of many brave and honourable men. But for this, 
we might have ranked his invasion with an army of unprincipled 
adventurers, amongst the ravages of those Goths and Vandals 
who in the darker ages overran Greece and Rome. " He pub- 
lished his proclamation," says Thierry, " in the neighbouring 
countries, and offered good pay and the pillage of England to every 
man who would serve him with lance, sword, or cross-bow; and 
multitudes accepted the invitation, coming by every road, far 
and near, from north and south. All the professional adven- 
turers, all the military vagabonds of western Europe, hastened to 
Normandy by long marches; some were knights and chiefs of 
war, the others simple foot-soldiers and Serjeants -of-arms, as they 
were then called. Some demanded money-pay, others only their 
passage, and all the booty they might make. Some asked for 
land in England, a domain, a castle, a town; others simply re- 
quired some rich Saxon in marriage. Every thought, every 
desire of human avarice presented itself; "William rejected no 
one," says the Norman chronicle, " and satisfied every one as 
well as he could." 

From spring to autumn, Normandy was the great rallying point 
for every one who had strength enough to wield arms, and were 
willing to dash out the brain of his fellow-men. The three-lion 
banner threw its folds over more crime and cruelty than was, 
perhaps, ever found amongst the same number of men; and the 
doors of this huge inhuman stye were about to be opened, and 
the grim, savage, and tusked herd turned loose, to slay, root-up, 



320 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

overrun, and desecrate a country to which Alfred the Great 
had given laws — a kingdom that already stood second to none in 
the wide world for civilization. These man-slayers ran toge- 
ther to hunt in couples — they became sworn brothers in arms— 
they vowed to share all they gained— they made these promises 
in churches— they knelt hand in hand before the holy altars, and 
blasphemously called God to witness that they would equally 
divide what they obtained by bloodshed and robbery. Prayers 
were said, and psalms chaunted, and tapers burnt in churches for 
the success of these armed marauders; yet neither the thunder 
nor the lightning nor an avenging arm descended to strike dead 
the impious priests who thus dared to invoke His sacred name 
in so unholy a cause; and for ages after, many a golden cross 
and sacred vessel of gold or silver, which had once decorated 
the altars of the English monasteries, were seen in the mis-called 
sacred buildings of Normandy— rewards which were given by 
the Norman Bastard to these mitred blasphemers. Some were 
honourable enough to refuse to co-operate with the Norman on 
any terms, like the high-minded Gilbert Fitz -Richard, who came 
over with the duke because he was his liege lord; and when 
the period of his servitude had expired, returned again to his 
own country, no richer than when he came. But there were 
few, we fear, like him. Thierry says, " He was the only one 
among the knights who accompanied the Norman that claimed 
neither lands nor gold." Many, we know, while the army was 
encamped near the river Dive, did homage for the lands which 
were then in the peaceable possession of the Saxons, who little 
dreamed, while they were superintending the gathering in of 
their harvest, that the Norman Bastard was already portioning 
out their fair domains amongst men who had sworn to do his 
" bloody business." . 

When William applied to Philip of France for his assistance 

and in the most humiliating terms offered to do homage for 

England, and to hold it as the vassal of France— Philip refused 
to assist him. With the count of Flanders, his brother-in-law, 
he fared no better; and when Conan, king of Brittany, heard 
that duke William, whom he looked upon as an usurper, and 
the murderer of his father, was preparing for the invasion of 
England, he sent him the following message by one of his cham- 
berlains:—" I hear that thou art about to cross the sea, to con- 
quer the kingdom of England. Now, duke Robert, whose son 



ENGLAND INVADED BY THE NORMANS. 321 

thou pretendest to be, on departing for Jerusalem, remitted all 
his heritage to count Allan, my father, who was his cousin ; but 
thou and thy accomplices poisoned my father. Thou hast ap- 
propriated to thyself his seigneury, and hast detained it to this 
day, contrary to all justice, seeing that thou art a bastard. 
Restore me, then, the duchy of Normandy, which belongs to me, 
or I will make war upon thee to the last extremity with all the 
forces at my disposal." 

The Norman historians state that William was somewhat 
alarmed at this message, as such an attack must have prevented 
his meditated invasion; but the king of Brittany did not survive 
his threat many days. The Norman succeeded in bribing the 
chamberlain to murder his royal master, and this he accomplished 
hj rubbing the mouth-piece of his hunting horn with deadly 
poison, so that w^hen Conan next rode to the chase, he blew his 
last blast. Many of William's enemies were at this time, be- 
yond doubt, removed by similar means. Nor do such deeds 
startle the historian as he draws nearer to that land of horrors; 
to the threshold of that country which, by his command, was 
stained with the blood of a hundred thousand murders. The 
successor of Conan, warned by the fate of father and son, 
patched up a peace with the Norman, and allowed many of his 
subjects to accompany the expedition. 

When all was in readiness for this long threatened invasion, 
a contrary wind set in, and kept the large fleet, which amounted 
to many hundred sail, for nearly a whole month at the mouth of 
the Dive, a river which falls into the sea between the Seine and 
the Orne. After this a southerly breeze sprang up, and wafted 
the mighty armament as far as the roadsteads of St. Valery, near 
Dieppe; then the wind suddenly changed, and there they were 
compelled to lie at anchor for several days. Many of the 
vessels were wrecked; and lest an alarm should spread amongst 
his troops, William caused the bodies of the drowned men to be 
buried with speed, and in privacy. Nor did such disasters fail 
in producing their effects upon his superstitious followers. Some 
deserted his standard, for they thought that an expedition, 
which the very elements seemed to oppose, could only be 
attended with evil. Murmurs broke out in the fleet — the 
soldiers began to converse with each other, and to exaggerate 
the number of dead bodies which had been buried in the sand — 



322 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

to conjure up perils and difficulties which they had never before 
seen. " The man is mad," said they, "who seeks to seize the land 
of another. God is offended with such designs, and proves it by 
refusing us a favourable wind." In vain did William increase 
the rations of provisions, and supply them with larger portions 
of strong liquor — the same low feeling of despondency reigned 
along the shore and in the ships. The soldiers were weary of 
watching the monotonous waves that ever rolled from the same 
quarter — they were tired of feeling the wind blow upon their 
faces from the same direction — but there was no help — no change; 
the breeze shifted not; and they paced wearily! wearily! along 
the shore; reckoning up again the number of dead bodies which 
had already been buried in the sand, then shaking their heads, 
and muttering to each other, " So many have perished, and yet 
we are no nearer the battle than when we set out." Others de- 
serted on the morrow. 

In vain did duke William attend the church of St. Yalery 
daily, and pray before the shrine of the saint — the little weather- 
cock on the bell-tower still pointed in the same direction day 
after day — his prayers were of no avail; and sometimes he came 
out of the church with such an expression on his countenance, as 
led the beholder to conclude that, from the bottom of his heart, he 
wished the wind, the weathercock, and the saint, with that dusky 
gentleman after whom the Normans had nicknamed his father. 
Weary and disheartened, like his followers, at this long delay, 
William at last hit upon a device, that at least served to arouse 
the spirits of his soldiers from the state of despondency into which 
they had sunk, and to chase from their minds the gloomy doubts 
and forebodings with which they had been so long overcast. 
To accomplish this, he took from the church of St. Yalery the 
coffer that contained the relics of the patron saint, and this 
he had carried with great ceremony through the camp in the 
centre — it was at last set down; and prayers having been 
offered up for a favourable wind, the soldiers in procession 
passed by the relics of the reputed saint, each throwing upon it 
what he could best afford, until the " shrine was half buried in 
the heaps of gold, silver, and precious things, which were 
showered upon it. Thus artfully did he, instead of interposing 
the authority of a sovereign and a military leader, to punish 
the language of sedition and mutiny among his troops, oppose 



ENGLAND INVADED BY THE NORMANS. 323 

superstition to superstition, to amuse the short- sighted instru- 
ments of his ambition."* 

On the following night the wind chanced to change, to the 
great delight of the priests who attended the camp, and who, 
while they packed up the rich offerings which had been thrown 
over the dry and marrowless bones of a good and pious old man, 
failed not to attribute the natural change in the current of the 
atmosphere to the intercession of St. Valery. At daybreak, 
on the twenty-seventh of September, the sky was bright and 
beautiful — the wind blowing in a favourable direction from the 
south, and the sun, which had for many days been enveloped in 
mists and clouds, now rose with a summer-like splendour, throw- 
ing long trails of golden light over the green and ridgy sea. 
The camp was immediately broken up, the sails were hoisted, 
and in a few hours the large fleet, which contained upwards of 
sixty thousand men, launched forth into the open sea amid the 
deep braying of the Norman trumpets. Foremost in the van 
rode the beautiful vessel which contained William, duke of 
Normandy. At its mast-head fluttered the consecrated banner 
which had been sent by the pope, and below this streamed out 
another flag, marked with the cross of Calvary, for so was the 
emblem of our salvation profaned. The sails were of various 
colours, and on them were emblazoned in gold the three lions, 
the haughty arms of Normandy. The prow of the vessel was 
decorated with the figure of a child, bearing a bent bow in its 
hand, as if in the act of discharging an arrow. When night 
closed in over the sea, a large lantern was hoisted to the mast- 
head of this magnificent vessel, and through the hours of dark- 
ness that vast fleet marched from wave to wave, every billow 
rolling it nearer to the shores of England. When the grey 
morning again dawned upon the sea, the Norman chief, finding 
that he had far outsailed his fleet, sent one of his sailors up the 
mast to see if he could descry the lagging ships in the distance. 
At first, the man who was despatched to look out saw no- 
thing but sea and sky; but on his third ascent, he exclaimed, 
" I see a forest of masts and sails !" William then either dropped 
his anchor, or took in his canvas, until the foremost vessels 
approached, and in a few hours after, the vast armament was 
riding safely in Pevensey Bay; only one or two vessels having 

* " Lives of the Queens of England," by Acnes Strickland, vol. i. p. 31 37. 

v 2 



324 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

been lost, while crossing the English channel, and in one of 
these was a famous astrologer who had predicted that the 
voyage would terminate without a disaster; but when William 
heard of his death, he shrewdly remarked, " that he who could not 
foresee his own fate, was ill adapted to foretel the fate of others." 

It appears that the Saxon vessels which had so long been 
cruising upon the coast of Sussex, awaiting the arrival of the 
Normans, had returned to port from want of provisions. Thus 
William was enabled to land his troops without opposition; and 
on the 28th of September, his forces disembarked at Pevensey, 
on the coast of Sussex. The archers, who wore short coats, 
and had their hair cut close, were the first to land. They were 
followed by the knights, who wore corslets of burnished mail. 
and conical shaped helmets of glittering steel; each bore in 
his hand a strong lance, while at his side hung a long, straight, 
double-edged sword. Then came the pioneers, the carpenters, 
and the smiths, each wheeling up and forming themselves into 
separate divisions, until the whole shore was covered with armed 
men and horses, above whose heads fluttered the gonfannons 
and the larger banners, which were so soon to serve as beacons 
in the rallying points of battle. William was the last to land, 
and his foot had scarcely touched the sandy shore before he 
stumbled and fell. A niurmur arose amid the assembled host, 
and voices were heard to exclaim, " This is an evil sign." But 
the duke, with that ready talent which enabled him to give a 
favourable appearance to serious as well as trifling disasters, 
suddenly sprang up, and showing the sand which he had grasped 
in his fall, exclaimed, "Lords, what is it you say? What, are 
you amazed? I have taken seizin of this land with my hands, 
and, by the splendour of God, all that it contains is ours." 
One of the soldiers then ran hastily forward, and tearing a 
handful of thatch from the roof of a neighbouring cottage, an 
ancient mode of conveyance, which still exists, he presented it 
to the duke, saying, " Sire, I give you seizin, in token that the 
realm is yours." William answered, "I accept it, and may God 
be with us." Refreshments were then distributed to the soldiers 
as they rested upon the beach. 

The army moved a little onward in the direction of Hastings, 
a spot favourable to encamp upon having been selected, two 
strong wooden fortresses, which had been prepared in Nor- 
mandy, were erected; and thus strongly fortified, William 



ENGLAND INVABSi, BY THE NORMANS. 325 

awaited the coming of the Saxons. On the following day, the 
work of pillage commenced. Troops of Normans over-ran the 
country — the whole coast was in a state of alarm; the inhabi- 
tants fled from their houses, concealing their cattle and goods, 
and congregating in the churches and churchyards, as if they 
trusted that the dust of the dead would be a protection to them 
against their foreign invaders. The peasants assembled on the 
distant hills, and looked with terror upon the strong fortresses, 
and the immense body of men which they could see moving about 
the coast. A Saxon knight mounted his horse, and hurried off, 
without slackening his rein, to carry the tidings to Harold. Day 
and night did he ride, scarcely allowing himself time for either 
food or refreshment, until, reaching the ancient hall at York, 
where Harold was seated at his dinner, he rushed into the 
presence of the Saxon king, and delivering his message in four 
brief ominous words, exclaimed, " The Normans are come!"* 



CHAPTER XXXIX, 



BATTLE OF HASTINGS. 

" 'Tis better to die at tlie liead of the herd, 
Than to perish alone, unmourned, uninterred ; 
To be bound with tbe brave amid summer's last sheaves, 
Than be left, the last ear that the reaper's hand leaves ; 
'Tis better to fall grasping arrow and bow, 
Amid those whom we love, than be slave to a foe ; 
For life is the target at which Death's shafts fly, 
If they miss us we live — if they hit us we die." 

ROYSTON GOWEK. 

Elated by the victory which a hasty march and a sudden 
surprise had enabled him to obtain more easily over the 
Norwegians, the brave Harold again, -without a day's delay, 
proceeded to advance rapidly in the direction ot the Norman 
encampment, wearied and thinned as his forces were by the late 
encounter; hoping by the same unexpected manceuvre and 
headlong attack, to overthrow at once this new enemy. So> 

* " Lives of the Queens of England," by Agnes Strickland vol. i. p. 31, 37. 



326 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

sanguine was the Saxon king of obtaining the victory, that he 
commanded a fleet of seven hundred vessels to hasten towards 
the English Channel, and intercept the enemy's ships if they 
should, on his approach, attempt to return to Normandy. The 
force thus despatched, to remain idle and useless upon the ocean, 
greatly diminished the strength of the army which Harold was 
about to lead into the field. Added to this, many had aban- 
doned his standard in disgust, because he prohibited them from 
plundering the Northmen, whom they had so recently conquered 
— an act of forbearance which, when placed beside his generous 
dismissal of the vanquished, shows that Harold, like Alfred, 
blended mercy instead of revenge with conquest. Too con- 
fident in the justice of his cause — brave, eager, impetuous, and 
burning with the remembrance of the wrongs which he had en- 
dured, while he lay helpless at the foot of the Norman duke in 
his own country, the Saxon king hastened with forced marches 
to London; where he only waited a, few days to collect such 
forces as were scattered about the neighbourhood, instead of 
gathering around him the whole strength of Mercia, and the 
thousands which he might have marshalled together from the 
northern and western provinces. Those who flocked to his 
standard came singly, or in small bands; they consisted of men 
who had armed hastily, of citizens who lived in the metropolis, 
of countrymen who were within a day or two's march of the 
capital, and even of monks who abandoned their monasteries to 
defend their country against the invaders. Morkar, the great 
northern chieftain, who had married Harold's sister, mustered 
his forces at the first summons, but long before he reached 
London, Harold was on his way to Hastings. The western 
militia, and such straggling bands as we have already de- 
scribed, were all that made up for the losses he had sustained 
at York — for the many who had deserted him because he for- 
bade them to plunder the Norwegians — and the numbers whom 
he had so unwisely sent away to strengthen the fleet — so that 
the Saxon king, by his precipitate and ill-timed march, reached 
the battle-field with a tired and jaded force, which scarcely 
numbered twenty thousand; and with these he was compelled to 
combat a practised and subtle leader, who had sixty thousand 
men at his command, and who, excepting their plunder and 
forages in the surrounding neighbourhood, had already rested 
fifteen days in their encampment. The haste that Harold 



BATTLE OP HASTINGS. 327 

made was increased by the rumours he heard of the ravages 
committed by the Normans. It was to put a check to the suf- 
ferings which his countrymen were enduring in the vicinity of 
the Norman encampment, that caused the Saxon king to ride 
at the head of his brave little army, and to leave London in the 
twilight of an October evening; and, though so ill prepared, to 
endeavour to check the insolence of the rapacious invaders. 
Harold possessed not the cool cunning and calculating foresight 
of his crafty adversary, but trusted to the goodness of his cause; 
no marvel then that he evinced the impatience which is so charac- 
teristic of a wronged and brave Englishman. It is on record, 
that the Norman duke forbade his soldiers to plunder the people, 
but his future conduct is marked by no -such forbearance, 
and we have proof that the inhabitants in the neighbour- 
hood of the encampment abandoned their houses and fled; nor 
is it probable, for a moment, that such a rabble as he had 
brought over would rest, for fifteen days, without molesting the 
English, whose country had already been divided, in promise, 
amongst them. 

Harold found the Norman outposts stationed at some distance 
from Hastings, and therefore drew up his forces on the range ot 
hills which stand near the site of Battle-abbey. It is said the altar 
of the abbey was afterwards built on the very spot where the 
Saxon king planted his standard. Duke William drew up his army 
more inland, and occupied the opposite eminence. The features of 
the country have undergone so many changes, that it would almost 
be impossible to point out the identical hills on which the opposing 
armies took up their stations, although it seems pretty clear that 
the place which still bears the name of Battle was that on which 
the struggle took place. The hills on which the Saxon forces 
stood arrayed were flanked by a wood. A great portion of this 
they felled, to strengthen their position by palisades and breast- 
works, and redoubts, formed by stakes, hurdles, and earth-works, 
which they hastily threw up, although the soldiery were wearied 
with their rapid march from London. Messengers had already 
passed between Harold and William. The latter had offered 
the Saxon king all the lands beyond the Humber, if he would 
abandon the throne; or, if he preferred it, to leave the matter to 
the pope, or to decide the quarrel by single combat. Harold 
answered, that the God of battles should decide between them. 
It is said that the Saxon king offered the Norman a large sum 



328 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

to quit the kingdom: but it is difficult to reconcile such a state- 
ment with that of his having despatched seven hundred vessels 
to prevent the invaders from escaping. A whole day is said to 
have been wasted in useless messages; and, at length, the 
Norman went so far as to offer Gurth, Harold's brother, the 
whole of the lands which had been held by earl Godwin. These, 
with such as extended beyond the Humber, and which he was 
willing that the Saxon king should retain, would have left the wily 
Norman in possession of a much greater portion of England than 
he was able to obtain until long after that sanguinary struggle 
had been decided. Harold was firm to his country. He re- 
jected all offers of concession, and was resolved either to rid 
England of so dangerous an enemy, or perish in the field, and 
by his example to show those into whose hands the freedom of 
England might be entrusted, that if he could not conquer he 
would die as became a brave Saxon, in the defence of his 
country. Harold seems to have been well aware that the battle 
would be boldly contested; for when the spies he had sent out 
to reconnoitre returned with the tidings, that there were more 
priests in the Norman encampment than soldiers — they having 
mistaken for monks all such as shaved the beards, and wore the 
hair short — he smiled, and said, " They whom you saw in such 
numbers are not priests, but warriors, who will soon show us 
their worth:" a clear proof that he well knew the valour of 
the Norman chivalry. 

When duke William found that Harold was resolved to fight, 
he, as a last resource, sent over a monk to renew his offer, and 
to proclaim that all who aided him were excommunicated by the 
pope, and that he already possessed the papal bull which pro- 
nounced them accursed. Many of the English chiefs began to 
look with alarm on each other when they heard themselves 
threatened with excommunication. But one of them, according 
to the Norman chronicle, boldly answered, " We ought to fight, 
however great the danger may be; for the question is not about 
receiving a new lord, if our king were dead — the matter is far 
different. This duke has given our lands to his barons, knights, 
and people, many of whom have already done homage for them. 
They will demand the fulfilment of his promises: and were he 
to become our king, he would be compelled to give to them our 
lands, our goods, our wives and our daughters; for he has 
beforehand promised them all. They have come to wrong both us 



BATTLE OF HASTINGS. 329 

and our descendants — to take from us the country of our ances- 
tors; — and what shall we do, or where shall we go, when we 
have no longer any country?" After such an answer as this, the 
Norman must have been satisfied that all further attempts at 
concession were useless — that his real motives were unveiled, 
that they knew he had abandoned England to the mercy of the 
armed marauders, who were already drawn up to "kill and take 
possession,"— and that the army opposed to him consisted of men 
who were resolved to conquer or die. Nor was he mistaken; 
for, by the time that the messengers had regained the Norman 
encampment, the Saxons had vowed before God, that they would 
neither make peace, nor enter into treaty with such an enemy, 
but either drive the Normans out of England, or leave their 
dead bodies in the battle-field. 

We wonder not that men who had formed such a resolution 
should spend the night in chaunting their ancient national songs, 
and in pledging each other's health, as they passed the cup from 
hand to hand for the last time — that the bravest of this sworn 
brotherhood in arms should boast how they would hew their 
way into the enemy's ranks on the morrow — that many had 
made up their minds that they should fall — that they had re- 
counted the number of battles they had fought in, the omens 
they had witnessed, and which foretold their deaths, (for such 
superstitions were firmly believed by our Saxon ancestors) — 
that with such feelings as these the ale cup circulated until 
that clear, cold October midnight had rolled into the heavens 
all its host of stars. Their talk would be of victory or death — 
of the hard blows that would be dealt before the moon again 
climbed so high up the blue steep of midnight — of the friends 
who were far behind — ot the many who, in the face of such an 
enemy, would be certain to fall; — and, ever and anon, a few 
stragglers would come dropping in, and welcome recognitions be 
given. The Normans, who had no new arrivals to pledge, 
betook themselves to confessing their sins, and preparing for 
the death they so richly merited. They who were about to 
bleed for the defence of their country, had already offered up 
their hearts on freedom's holy altar — the blow only had to be 
struck, and the blood to flow, and the sacrifice was ended. 
They had sworn in solemn league, that liberty was to them 
dearer than life, and such a vow had divested death of all its 
terrors. In the defence of their homes, their wives, and their 



330 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

children, they had come forth resolved to leave them free or 
perish. The valley beneath yawned like a newly made grave, and 
many a brave Saxon, as he looked into it, knew that there " the 
wicked would cease from troubling, and the weary be at rest." 
They who had made up their minds to die in such a cause 
needed no confession to men — they had registered their vows in 
heaven; and if the Eecording Angel might be pictured as look- 
ing down upon the Saxon encampment, it would be with a face 
pale with pity, and a tear-dimmed eye. What true English 
heart would not sooner have pledged the healths of the brave 
Saxons on that eventful night, as they were assembled around 
their watch-fires, than have bowed amongst the guilty Normans? 
— have shared death in the glorious halo which the former threw 
above the grave, rather than have groped their way thither 
amid the groans and sighs of that great band of meditative 
murderers, who must have trembled as the hour of danger and 
death drew nearer. 

Gurth had endeavoured in vain to dissuade his brother Harold 
from taking part in the combat. The Saxon king was deaf to 
all intreaties; he was too brave to abandon a field, and give up 
a kingdom with which he had been entrusted, because an oath 
had been extorted from him on the relics. Such an act w T ould 
have consigned his name to endless infamy. The morning sun 
found Harold beside his standard, in the centre of his brave 
Saxons, which the enemy outnumbered by nearly four to one, 
besides possessing a formidable army of cavalry; the Saxons 
appear to have been wholly wdthout such a force, for no mention 
is made of their horsemen. 

It was on Saturday morning, the 14th of October, nearly 
eight hundred years ago, when the grey dawn, which many a 
sleepless eye had so anxiously watched, broke dimly over the 
rival armies, as they stood ranged along the opposite heights; 
and as the faint autumnal mist passed away, the sun rose 
slowly upon the scene, and gilded the arms of the combatants, 
falling upon the large white horse on which the bishop of 
Bayeaux was mounted, as, with a hauberk over his rochet, he 
rode along the Norman ranks, and arranged the cavalry. The 
Norman duke, not less conspicuous, was seen mounted on a 
Spanish charger, accompanied by Toustain the Fair, who bore 
in his hand the banner which the Roman pontiff had conse- 
crated; the duke wore around his neck a portion of the relics 



BATTLE OF HASTINGS. 331 

on which Harold had sworn; for he well knew that the re- 
mains of dead men strangle not. His face was flushed; in his 
haste he had at first put on his hauberk the wrong way; 
some had remarked that it was an evil omen, and, as°yet, he 
had scarcely regained his composure, though there was a rest- 
lessness about his eyes which bespoke great excitement — he sat 
gallantly in his saddle — the haughty charger neighed and cur- 
vetted as it sniffed the morning air. He divided his army into 
three columns, and these solid bodies he flanked with light in- 
fantry, who were armed with bows, and steel cross-bows. The 
adventurers he left to the command of their own leaders, placing 
himself at the head of his own Norman soldiers. When all 
was ready for action, he addressed them nearly as follows — for 
the meaning has been better preserved than the precise words 
he uttered. 

" Fight your best, and put every one to death; for if we 
conquer, we shall all be rich. What I gain, you gain; if I con- 
quer, you conquer; if I take the land, you will share it: know, 
however, that I am not come here merely to take that which is 
my due, but to revenge our whole nation for the felon acts, per- 
juries, and treason of these English. They put to death the 
Danes, men and women, on the night of Saint Brice. They de- 
cimated the companions of my relation Alfred, and put him 
to death. On, then, in God's name, and chastise them for all 
their misdeeds."* 

There is scarcely throughout the whole range of English his- 
tory a more cruel and merciless command to be found than this 
which issued from the lips of the vindictive Norman. Slay, 
spare not, and take possession, is the sum and substance of his 
speech. As for his pretended sympathy for the Danes, we have 
proof that after the battle they were doomed to share the same 
misery and death which alighted upon the Saxons. But unerr- 
ing justice at last avenged these wrongs, and there were but 
few death-beds more melancholy than that of William the Nor- 
man. On the opposite hill the Saxons were also ranged ready 
for the combat. They were drawn up in a compact, wedge- 
like body behind their palisades and trenches; the foremost 
rank, which consisted of the warlike men of Kent, standing 
shoulder to shoulder, and shield to shield. Beside the Saxon 
standard stood Harold and his two brothers, Gurth and Leofwin, 

* Thierry's Norman Conquest, vol. i. p. 175. 



332 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

supported by the most renowned of the Saxon chiefs. They 
were surrounded by the brave citizens of London, a select por- 
tion of whom formed the king's body-guard. As the Normans 
advanced, they uttered their war-cry of " God help us! God 
help us !" To which the Saxons answered, " The Holy Cross ! 
The Cross of God!" The staff which supported the Saxon 
banner was planted in the ground, for on that day there re- 
mained not an idle hand to bear it. On its folds were em- 
blazoned the figure of a man in combat, woven in threads of 
gold and jewels, which glittered in the morning sun. A Nor- 
man, named Taillefer, who on that day played the part of both 
warrior and minstrel, advanced first, chaunting the ballad of 
Charlemagne and Roland; and as he continued to sing, and urge 
his charger onward, he threw up his sword in the air, and 
caught it in his right hand, while the Norman chivalry joined 
in the burthen of the song. The minstrel obtained permission 
to strike the first blow, and, having slain one Saxon, and felled 
another to the ground, he was, while in the act of attacking a 
third, himself mortally wounded. Before the ranks closed, Wil- 
liam glanced his eye up the neighbouring slope, which was filled 
with armed men, and inquired of a warrior who rode near him, 
If he knew which was the spot that Harold occupied. The 
soldier pointed to where the Saxon standard was stationed near 
the summit of the hill, as being the spot most likely to be occu- 
pied by the English king. William appeared surprised that 
Harold was present at the conflict, muttered something about the 
oath which he had extracted from him, and said that his perjury 
would be that day punished. 

The Saxons had no cavalry; ail who had joined Harold on 
horseback, dismounted, to fight on foot, following the example 
which the king himself had set them. The general action was 
commenced by the archers first discharging their arrows, and 
the cross-bowmen their heavy headed bolts; but these the Saxons 
either received upon their shields, or they fell nearly harmless 
upon the defences they had hastily thrown up; no effect was 
produced: scarcely a wavering motion was seen along the front 
of that impenetrable phalanx. The Norman infantry armed 
with lances, and the well-mounted cavalry next advanced, to the 
very foot of the Saxon trenches; but the Saxons hewed off the 
heads of their javelins, and cut through the Norman coats of 
mail with a single blow of their heavy battleaxes. They had 



BATTLE OF HASTINGS. 333 

also prepared themselves with heavy stones, which they hurled 
at the invaders. Many of the Normans fell in the first charge ; 
but all their attempts to carry the redoubts were useless: they 
might as well have wheeled up their horses against the great 
cliffs which overlook our sea-girt coast, and tried to bear 
them down, as to make any impression upon that brave band, 
who stood shoulder to shoulder, as if they were consolidated 
into one mass. Breathless and wearied, the Normans fell back 
again upon the main body, which was commanded by the duke, 
who had beheld with astonishment the impenetrable front which 
the Saxons presented. 

Having recovered from the disorder, the duke commanded a 
large body of archers to advance, and instead of shooting for- 
ward to discharge their arrows higher in the air, so that in their 
descent they might gall the Saxons by wounding them in the 
face, neck, or shoulders. This discharge was seconded by the 
advance of the infantry and cavalry, without producing any 
serious effect. A few of the Saxons were wounded by this 
manoeuvre, but the cavalry were still unable to break through 
the English line, and when they again retreated, they were 
driven into a deep ravine, the edge of which appears to have 
been covered with the natural growth of brushwood, and here 
many of the Norman chivalry perished; for the Saxons pursued 
them, and with their heavy battleaxes, which they wielded with 
both hands, speedily put to death such as they had unhorsed, 
who were unable to escape. Up to this time the Saxons had 
succeeded in beating off the enemy. The left wing of the Nor- 
man army gave way, and were pursued by the English. Terror 
and dismay reigned in the ranks of the invaders — all was confu- 
sion and flight; and to add to the consternation, a rumour ran 
along the line, that duke "William was slain. But the duke him- 
self appeared at this critical moment, and turned the tide of 
battle. It is very probable that, during this confusion and re- 
treat, the horse which the duke rode was killed under him, and 
that some of the soldiers who witnessed his fall, spread the 
tidings that he was slain. 

Behold him again mounted — his helmet off — his teeth clenched 
— his brows knit together — and his countenance burning with 
high indignation, as with his weapon he strikes at his own 
soldiers, who are hurrying past him in the retreat and confusion, 
exclaiming, in a voice of thunder, which rings out above the 



334 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. 

clang of arms, and the groans of the wounded and the dying — 
" I am here — look at me — I still live — by the help of God I will 
yet conquer — what madness induces you to fly? — what way is 
there for you to escape? — they whom you are driving and de- 
stroying, if you choose, you may kill like cattle — you fly from 
victory — you run upon ruin — and if you retreat will all perish." 
Between each sentence he struck at those who continued to rush 
past him with his lance, until, having checked many of the fugi- 
tives, he placed himself helmetless at their head, and compelled 
the Saxons to hasten back again to the main body of their army. 
Although many of the English fell in this charge, they gained 
an advantage over their enemies, and there is but little doubt, 
had they continued to act upon the defensive, confining them- 
selves to their entrenchments, or only sallying out when they 
saw the Norman line giving way, that weak as they were in 
numbers, they would at last have obtained the victory; for 
in spite of this desperate charge, headed by the duke himself, 
and all the force that he could bring to bear upon the front of 
the Saxon army, they remained firm as a rock, and not a breach 
could be made in that wall of iron-armed and lion-hearted Eng- 
lishmen. The archers continued to discharge their arrows in 
the air, but where they alighted no gap was visible — there was 
the same firm front — the same wedge-like mass — the unaltered 
array of shields — the deep range of firm figures rising above one 
another, which displayed neither fear nor defeat, but stood grim, 
unmoved, and resolved; strong pillars, that can neither be 
made to bend nor bow, until the building which they support is 
destroyed, and they themselves lay broken and shapeless amid 
the ruins. Such was the power duke William had still to 
contend with. 

The battle had already lasted above six hours; it was now 
three o'clock, and all the success the Normans had hitherto ob- 
tained was when they so suddenly rallied, and drove back the 
Saxons within their entrenchments. Wearied with the stubborn 
resistance which they displayed, the duke had at last recourse to a 
stratagem, and ordered a thousand horse, under the command of 
Eustace, count of Boulogne, to advance to the edge of the Saxon 
lines, assail them, and then suddenly retreat as if in disorder. 
This manoeuvre was successful; numbers of the Saxons rushed 
out eagerly in the pursuit. Another body of Norman horse 
stood ready to dash in between the Saxons and separate them 



BATTLE OF HASTINGS. 335 

from the main body, who still stood firm behind the entrench- 
ments. They were also hemmed in by the enemy's infantry, 
and thus jammed between horse and foot, they had no longer 
room to wield their heavy battle-axes, which required both 
hands; and few of that brave band, who had so rashly sallied 
out upon the Normans, lived to boast of the deeds which they 
had achieved. Not one surrendered — no quarter was given 
— none asked — there was no eye, excepting the enemy's, to 
look upon their valorous deeds — no one to record the brave 
defence they made: Death alone was able to vanquish them, 
and there they lay, grim and silent trophies of his victory. 
Many a Saxon thane distinguished himself by his individual 
prowess, and one among the rest achieved such deeds with his 
battle-axe, that the dead lay piled around him like a wall — 
but the long lances of the Normans at last reached him; he 
fell, and not even his name has been preserved. Twice or thrice 
was this manoeuvre repeated towards the close of the day, and 
each time accompanied with the same success; for the Saxons 
now burned to revenge the death of their countrymen — they 
rushed out of their entrenchments — they attacked the Normans 
hand to hand — they plunged into the very thickest of the dan- 
ger. Those who were wounded still fought with one hand 
resting upon their shields, while those who were dying strove 
with their last breath to animate their countrymen. It is not 
certain whether Harold was slain before or after the attack was 
made upon the Saxon standard. It was, however, late in the 
day when he fell; his brain pierced by a random arrow which 
one of the Norman archers had shot, which goes far to prove 
that his death took place before the enemy had broken through 
the Saxon fortifications. He had distinguished himself by his 
bravery and firmness throughout the day; had placed himself in 
the most dangerous positions, and by his personal exertions set 
an example of valour and vigilance to his soldiers. 

After the Normans had broken through the entrenchments, 
the English still closed firmly around their standard, which was 
defended to the last by the brothers of Harold, G-urth and Leof- 
win, and many of the English thanes; who, though hemmed 
round by the enemy, resolved not to resign their banner, while 
an arm remained capable of striking a blow in its defence. 
Once Robert Fitz-Ernest, a Norman knight, approached so near 
that he was within a few inches of grasping it, when he was laid 



336 history of England' 

dead by a single blow from a battle-axe. A score of the Normans 
then pledged themselves solemnly to carry off the standard, or 
perish. It was in this struggle that both the brothers of Harold 
fell. Nor was the Saxon ensign torn down, and the banner 
which had been consecrated by the pope raised in its place, until 
many of the Norman knights were slain, who had sworn to achieve 
so perilous a triumph. The sun was setting as the Saxon 
standard was lowered. It was the last hard-fought field over 
which the banner of Alfred floated; though many a contest 
afterwards took place between the invaders and the English — 
yet this was the great struggle. 

" The wreck of the English army," says Thierry, " without 
chief and without standard, prolonged the struggle till the end 
of the day, until it was so dark and late, that the combatants 
only recognised each other by their language. Then, and not 
till then, did this desperate resistance end. Harold's followers 
dispersed, many dying upon the roads of their wounds, and the 
fatigue of the combat. The Norman horse pursued them, grant- 
ing quarter to none." During the day, the duke of Normandy 
had three horses killed under him, and though he himself escaped 
without a wound, his helmet bore the dint of a heavy blow he 
had received from a battle-axe, that, but for the finely tem- 
pered steel of which the casque was made, would have left 
him to sleep his last sleep on the same battle-field where 
Harold the Saxon reposed. Many of the Saxons dispersed, and 
escaped through the woods which lay in the rear of their broken 
encampment. They were pursued by the Normans, but where- 
ever a little body of the defeated had congregated they made a 
stand, and many a Norman fell that night in the moonlight combat, 
or returned wounded and bleeding to the camp, who had escaped 
the edges of the Saxon battle-axes during the day. " Thus," 
says an old writer, " was tried by the great assize of God's 
judgment in battle, the right of power between the English and 
Norman nations; a battle the most memorable of all others; 
and howsoever miserably lost, yet most nobly fought on the part 
of England." 

"If," says Sharon Turner, "William's wishes had been 
fulfilled, and he had appeared in England a month earlier than 
he did, he would have invaded Harold before the king of Nor- 
way attacked him, and perhaps have shared his fate. For if 
the English king, with the disadvantages of a loss and desertion 



BATTLE OF HASTINGS. 337 

of his veteran troops, of new levies of an inferior force was yet 
able to balance the conflict with William's most concentrated, 
select, and skilfully exerted strength, until night was closing; 
if the victory was only decided by his casual death, how different 
would have been the issue if Harold had met him with the troops 
which he marched against the Norwegians! But Providence 
had ordained that a new dynasty should give new manners, new 
connexions, and new fortunes to the English nation." 

Alas ! for them — not us. Better would it have been had the 
whole Saxon race perished in the battle-field, than that a remnant 
should have survived to groan beneath the weight of the Norman 
yoke. They were alone happy who perished in the combat. 
We feel more pity for those who were left behind, and had to 
endure the miseries that followed, than we do for the dead, 
though all have, ages ago, been at rest. They have ceased 
"moaningly to crave household shelter;" the " wintry winds" 
will sweep over their graves no more, for even the last hillocks 
that covered their remains are swept away, and they have, 
centuries ago, mingled dust with dust; on the w T ide field not a 
human bone can now be found, of " those who fought and those 
who fell." 

The solemn Sabbath day that dawned upon that battle-ground 
saw the Norman Conqueror encamped amidst the living and the 
dead. And when he called over the muster-roll which had been 
prepared before he left the opposite coast, many a knight, who 
on the day when he sailed, had proudly answered to his name, 
was then numbered with the dead. The land which he had 
done homage for was useless to him then. He had perilled his 
life, and a few feet of common earth was all the reward that 
death allotted to him. The conqueror had lost nearly a fourth 
of his army — a number, from all we can gather, equal to the 
whole of the Saxon force engaged in the field. Those who 
survived received for their share of the victory the spoils of the 
slaughtered Saxons. The dead body of Harold is said to have 
laid long upon the field before any one ventured to claim it, but 
at length his mother, the widow of Earl Godwin, ventured forth, 
and craved permission to bury it. It is said that she offered 
to give the Norman duke the weight of his body in gold, 
but that he sternly refused to grant her request; and, in his 
savage triumph, exclaimed, " He shall have no other sepulchre 
than the sand upon the sea-shore." He, however, relented at 

z 



338 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. 

last, says Thierry, " if we are to believe an old tradition, in 
favour of the monks of Waltham abbey, which Harold had 
founded and enriched. Two Saxon monks, Osgod and Ailrik, 
deputed by the abbot of "Waltham, demanded and obtained per- 
mission to transport the remains of their benefactor to their 
church. They sought among the mass of slain, despoiled of 
arms and clothes, examining them carefully one after the other, 
but could not recognise the body of him they sought, so much had 
his wounds disfigured him. Despairing ever to succeed in their 
research unaided, they addressed themselves to a woman whom 
Harold, before he became king, had kept as a mistress, t and 
intreated her to assist them. She was called Edith, and sur- 
named the Beaut}' with the Swan's Neck. She consented to 
accompany the two monks, and was more successful than they in 
discovering the corpse of him whom she loved." 

Although the Saxon throne was for ever overthrown, many 
a struggle took place, and many a concession was made, before 
England was wholly in the hands of the Normans. Here, how- 
ever, the gates of history close upon our Saxon forefathers 
for a long period. Their language has outlived that of the 
Conqueror's; and we shall find that our island again became 
Saxon, and that the laws of Edward the Confessor had to be 
restored before the country could be tranquillized: — 

" For freedom's battle once begun, 
Bequeathed by bleeding sire to son, 
Though baffled oft, is ever won." 




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339 



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THEIR RELIGION. 

We have already described the paganism of the Saxons, both as 
it existed on the Continent, and after their arrival in England; 
and we must now glance briefly at their change to Christianity, 
and the early modes of worship which they adopted. When 
they landed in England, they found the Britons generally wor- 
shippers of the True Divinity. Christianity had become grafted 
and grown, and overpowered and bore down the remains of 
druidism, on which it was first planted. The idolatry that 
existed had assumed a more classic form; and instead of the 
grim wicker idols of the druids, the sightly forms of the heathen 
gods, which the Romans worshipped, had usurped their places. 
Among the ancient Cymry who had not come into such close 
contact with the Roman conquerors, the old druidical forms of 
idolatry still lingered; though through thf"n we are enabled 
to catch faint glimpses of the Deity, and to discover a slow, but 
sure approach towards the Creator. We have already shown 
how the Saxon invasion checked the progress of Christianity — 
how the churches were overthrown, and the priests massacred, 
until pope Gregory sent over Augustin, who succeeded in 
converting the Saxon king, Ethelbert, to the religion of Christ. 
How Paulinus accompanied Edilburga into Northumbrian and 
Edwin, the king of the Deira and Bernicia, became a convert 
to the holy faith. We have shown how the abbey of Croyland 
rose up amid the wild marshes of Lincolnshire, and the gospel 
sound was carried through the vast territory of Mercia, until 
at last the whole of the Saxon Octarchy bowed before the 
image of the dying Redeemer. To the forms of worship which 
were adopted in these ancient Christian churches, we must now 
turn. 

A rude wooden cross, planted by the roadside, a humble cell 
scooped out of the rock, or a wattled shed, thatched with the 
tufted rushes or the broad-leaved water-flags, first marked the 

z 2 



340 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

places of worship of the primitive Christians. Some came over, 
and settled down upon waste and lonely places; their piety and 
peaceful habits soon attracted the attention of the neighbouring 
peasantry, and of the chief, who granted them permission to 
reside and build upon the soil; allowed them to fell timber in the 
adjacent forest, or to hew stone from the distant quarry. Nor were 
they long in procuring assistance; many came and laboured for 
the love of God; they dug foundations; they mixed cement; the 
trees were sawn, and squared into beams; a forge was erected, 
and, as the blue smoke curled above the landscape, the clattering 
of the brawny smith was heard upon the anvil, as, with his 
" buck-horn fist," he shaped the iron which bound together beam 
and rafter. At length a tower rose up above the wild waste of 
marshes, and morning, and evening, and often at intervals during 
the day, the little bell was heard to toll; and as the sound fell 
upon the wayfarer's ears who journeyed past, he thought of life, 
and death, and heaven. Vast estates were at length given to 
them; they received rich donations, houses, and lands, and 
forests, which were secured by grants and charters, and attested 
by the signatures of kings. These bequests were made from 
love — and fear — a hope to escape future punishments, and by 
the intercession of the priests to enter heaven. 

Thus was a door thrown open, into which good and evil were 
promiscuously admitted. The truly pious, and the hardened 
sinner, received alike encouragement — bells were rung, and 
masses said, no matter for whom, as long as the altar was piled 
high with treasure — and mankind were at last wrongfully taught, 
that forgiveness could be purchased by wealth. Still the knee 
had to be bended, and prayers offered up, penances performed, 
and fastings endured, before the conscientious priest promised 
to intercede for the sinner. Then instead of the wooden cross, 
the naked walls, and the floor strewn with rushes, woven tapestry, 
and glaring pictures, graven images, and relics of saints, 
costly vessels of gold and silver, rich vestments and dazzling 
gems, and all the glitter and pomp which had hitherto been con- 
fined to courts, or borne in triumphal processions, were called up 
to decorate the buildings dedicated to God. In place of the 
lowly dwelling, scarcely distinguishable from the thatched hut of 
the peasant that rose above the waste, mighty fabrics were 
erected by skilful architects, whose roofs seemed to rest on the 
rim of the horizon, and the traveller looked in vain for those 



RELIGION OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS. 341 

beautiful openings in the landscape which had so long been 
familiar to his eye. Mighty barons, who had distinguished 
themselves in many a hard-fought field, became abbots; kings 
laid aside their costly robes, their crowns, and sceptres, put on 
the grey homely serge of the pilgrim, and, with staff in hand, 
journeyed weary miles to kneel before the shrines of saints, and 
either left their bones to moulder in a foreign land, or returned 
home again to die in the quiet solitude of the cloister — leaving 
miles of hill and vale, and wood and river, to enrich the revenues 
of the grey abbey in which they expired, amid the shady sadness 
of long-embowered aisles. 

These religious houses were happy havens for the poor and 
needy, the hungry, the wretched, and the oppressed. They 
became landmarks to the sick, storm-tossed, and rain-drenched 
wayfarer. All who came thither were sheltered and relieved; 
none ivere sent away empty-handed, for spiritual and bodily 
comfort were alike administered to all. They were the only 
resting places where the traveller could halt, and find refresh- 
ment and welcome, where his steed was stabled, his wants 
attended to, and where, without charge, he was dismissed on the 
morrow with a prayer and a blessing. Nor did their works of 
charity end here: they sent out missionaries to other countries, 
to the benighted land from which their ancestors first came, 
over the sounding billows, to many a shore whose echoes had 
never yet rung back the holy hallelujah. Although there were 
many things in their ancient forms of worship which in us 
awaken a sigh or a smile, we must remember that religion was 
then in its infancy — that they had but few guides, but few 
books to instruct them. There were but few able to translate 
the gospels from the Latin into the Saxon tongue; such ver- 
sions as they were enabled to make were crude and incorrect, 
and many of the priests were incompetent to instruct them in 
points of faith. They ventured but little further in their in- 
struction than to teach that the soul was immortal, and lived in 
a future state, where the good were rewarded, and the evil 
punished; that Christ died for our salvation — that the dead 
arose, and the faithful and just would at last be admitted into 
eternal glory. Into the more intricate mysteries of our religion 
they ventured not. Every priest was commanded to read the 
gospels, and to study well the Holy Book, that " he might 
teach his people rightly, who looked up to him." Several valu- 



342 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

able MSS. of the translation of the gospel into the Saxon lan- 
guage, which were written between the reigns of Alfred and 
Harold, are still in existence. Although they used the cross as 
the sign of their salvation, they were taught not to reverence 
the wood, but to bear in mind His form who had suffered upon 
it. They held relics in high veneration; and though the remains 
of good and holy men cannot be contemplated without awakening 
a religious feeling, they carried their reverence to a superstitious 
excess; for by them they believed that the greatest miracles 
could be worked, and that they were the only safeguards against 
disease, magic, and witchcraft. The priests were only allowed 
to celebrate mass when fasting; nor, unless in cases of sickness, 
was this ceremony to be held anywhere but upon the altar in 
the church; and to this altar no woman was permitted to 
approach duriug its celebration; neither dogs nor swine were 
allowed to come within the enclosure that surrounded the holy 
edifice. The purest of bread, wine, and water, were only to be 
used in celebrating the Eucharist, and the sacramental cup was 
to be formed of gold, or silver, glass, or tin; and none made of 
earth or wood were permitted to be used. The altar was 
always to be kept clean, and covered; and the mass-priest was 
to have his missal, his psalter, his reading-book, penitential, 
numeral, hand-book, and singing-book. He was also to learn 
some handicraft, and to abolish all witchcraft. Each priest per- 
formed his allotted duty; the ostiary guarded the church doors, 
and tolled the bell; the exorcist drove out devils, and sprinkled 
houses which were infested with witches and foul fiends, with 
abyssum; the lector read the gospels to the congregation; the 
acolyth held the tapers while the lector read; the deacon at- 
tended on the mass-priest, placed the oblations on the altar, 
baptized children, and administered the Eucharist to the people; 
the sub-deacon had charge of the holy vessels, and waited at the 
altar while the mass-priest preached and consecrated the Eucha- 
rist. The bishop was looked up to as a comforter to the wretched, 
and a father to the poor; the priests were forbidden to carry 
their controversies before a lay tribunal, and when they could 
not settle it amongst themselves, it was left to the decision of 
the bishop. The high-born were taught not to despise those 
that were lowly; they were ordered to teach youth with care — 
to give alms, and chaunt holy hymns during the distribution; to 
humble themselves, and to become examples of mildheartedness* 



RELIGION OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS. 343 

Many of the penances they inflicted were severe; he who was 
guilty of any heinous offence, was to lay aside his weapons, 
travel barefooted many weary miles, nor seek household shelter 
during the night. He was to pay no regard to his dress, nor to 
enter a bath, neither might he eat flesh, nor taste strong drink, 
but fast, watch, and pray, both by day and night. The wealthy, 
however, might evade the heaviest penances, by giving alms; 
and the following extract will show to what useful purposes the 
church applied these penalties: — 

" He that hath ability may raise a church to the praise of 
God, and if he has wherewithal, let him give land to it, and 
allow ten young men, so that they may serve in it, and minister 
the daily service. He may repair churches where he can, and 
make folk-ways, with bridges over deep waters, and over miry 
places; assist poor men's widows, step-children, and foreigners. 
He may free his own slaves, and redeem the liberty of those who 
belong to other masters, and especially the poor captives of war. 
He may feed the needy, house them, clothe and warm them, and 
give them baths and beds." 

Thus did our pious ancestors make crime administer to the 
wants of the poor; they filtered the pure waters of charity from 
these corrupt sources, and displayed a wisdom which our modern 
legislators have yet to be taught. 

GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. 

When the Saxons first landed in England they could have 
had no previous knowledge of the Roman laws, which were then 
in existence in our island; for the government of the conquerors 
had long overthrown the primitive customs which were in use 
among the ancient Britons before the landing of Julius Caesar. 
We have already shown that the earliest of our Saxon invaders 
were led on by some military chief, who claimed his descent 
from Odin, and was acknowledged as leader by the consent of 
his followers, also allowed the largest share of the plunder or 
captives which were taken in war. Thus it would naturally 
follow, that when they came to settle down upon the soil which 
they had conquered, the power of the military chief would soon 
be acknowledged, and that to him would be given the greatest 
portion of the land; while amongst his followers such shares 
would be distributed as- were considered proportionate to their 



344 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

rank. After having conquered and divided the land, they 
would naturally unite together to defend the possessions they 
had won, and the chief, or his descendant, — if found worthy of 
being still retained at their head, by his wisdom or valour — 
would, either in peace or war, continue to hold the title and 
power of ruler; and thus would governments be formed, thrones 
established, and laws made by the wealthy and powerful, to 
keep their followers and captives in subjection. Nor would it 
be probable in all instances that the conquered were made cap- 
tives. Many by their valour and opposition would still present 
a formidable front to the invaders; and as both parties would in 
time grow weary of a continued system of attack or defence, 
concessions would be made, peace agreed upon, the land divided, 
vows sworn, and penalties fixed, to be paid by those who first 
broke the treaty. In such cases, war would not be entered into 
by either party without their first stating the grievances. This, 
again, would lead to discussions,assemblies, accusations, defences; 
times and places would be allotted for meeting; and so courts 
and tribunals were formed; and thus in all countries did law and 
civilization commence. We have shown how England was 
at first divided into separate kingdoms; how chief after chief 
came over, fought, conquered, and established a separate state, 
until the Octarchy was formed; and that when the whole island 
was occupied, the Saxon kings began to make war upon each 
other, until state after state was subdued, and one king at last 
reigned over all. That governors had to be placed over different 
divisions of this vast extent of territory; that these, again, placed 
officers over the sub-divisions: thus there were earls or alder- 
men, sheriffs, or shrieves, officers to each hundred or tithing; 
headboroughs, frankpledges, who attended the court-leet which 
was held at given periods, and accounted for all grievances or 
violations of the law. The first laws made would naturally be 
those which protected persons and property, — to punish acts of 
violence and theft, and to prevent personal vengeance being 
inflicted. Thus, murder might be compounded for, under certain 
circumstances, at a fixed penalty, and every portion of the body 
injured had its price, from the leg to the little finger, even down 
to the hair, tooth, or nail. The loss of an eye and a leg appears 
to have been considered the most important, and was punished 
by a fine of fifty shillings. To lame a person only, the sum 
exacted was thirty shillings. To wound, or strike such a blow 



GOVERNMENT AND LAWS OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS. 345 

as caused deafness, twenty -five shillings; for fracturing the 
skull, twenty shillings; for cutting off the little finger, eleven 
shillings; tearing off the hair, ten shillings. For tearing off a 
nail, or driving out a tooth, the penalty was one shilling; but if 
a front tooth, the charge was six shillings. Robbery was 
punished according to the rank of the party plundered. If a 
freeman committed robbery, he forfeited all his goods and his 
freedom; if he was taken in the fact, and the stolen property 
found in his hand, the king had the option of killing him, of 
selling him, or receiving the value of his Were, which was the 
sum at which his life would have been rated had he been mur- 
dered. Even the life of the king had its Were or value. One 
hundred and twenty pounds was the price fixed to be paid as 
the penalty for the murder of a king. A noble's, a bishop's, an 
alderman's, a thane's, a servant's, had each its fixed penalty, 
according to the rank of the deceased, — from that of the king, 
as above named, to the humblest hind, whose life was rated at 
thirty shillings. Besides the Were, there was another protec- 
tion, called the Mund. This seems to have been a penalty paid 
for disturbing the peace of a man's household; or, as Sharon 
Turner has observed, "it was a privilege which made every 
man's house his castle." The Saxons had also their bail or 
sureties. Thus, when a man had committed homicide, he had 
to find borh, or sureties for the payment of the penalty. The 
time allowed for payment is not mentioned, excepting in one 
case, where it appears to have been limited to forty days. The 
head of every tithing, or ten families, also appears to have been 
responsible for those under his jurisdiction or keeping, as we 
have previously shown in the reign of Alfred. He who had no 
surety, or borh, or could not pay the penalty for the crime com- 
mitted ,or had no kinsman to redeem him, either became a slave, 
or might be slain, according to the nature of the offence. 

Their mode of trial was very simple, and their general method 
of arriving at the innocence or guilt of the party accused appears 
to have been influenced by the number and respectability of the 
witnesses who swore for or against the prisoner. Thus, if a man 
stood charged with any offence, and he could bring the given 
number of persons to swear that he was innocent, the prisoner 
was acquitted, unless the accusing party could produce a greater 
number of witnesses to swear against him, and show clearer 
proofs of his guilt. When this was the case, the offender either 



346 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

submitted to the punishment or underwent the trial of ordeal, 
or, as it was considered, submitted to the "judgment of God." 
The ordeal consisted either of hot water or hot iron ; in some cases 
the iron weighed three pounds, and was to be carried nine paces. 
The ordeal appears to have taken place in the church; if the trial 
was to be by hot iron, a number of men were allowed to enter 
the church, and, being ranged on each side, the priest sprinkled 
them with holy water; they were then to kiss the Gospel, and 
were signed with the cross. The priest afterwards read a prayer, 
and during this period the fire was not to be mended, and if burnt 
out the iron still rested upon the staples to cool, so that in no 
instance could it be red-hot; the paces were measured by the 
feet of the accused, and it has been computed that the hot iron 
would hardly remain in his hand beyond two seconds. Whether 
the culprit moved rapidly or walked slowly, or threw the iron 
upon the floor, or placed it on some allotted spot, we cannot tell; 
though there is but little doubt that means were taken to render 
the trial as short as possible. When the ordeal was by water, 
it was sufficient if four witnesses stepped forward to state that 
they had seen it boiling; whether the vessel was of iron, copper, 
or clay, a stone was placed in it, which the accused with his bare 
hand and arm had to take out; the vessel was shallow or deep, 
according to the nature of the offence he stood charged with ; in 
some cases he had only to plunge in his hand to take out the 
stone, in others his arm to the elbow. As in the ordeal by heated 
iron, the same ceremonies were observed, and during the time 
that elapsed in praying and sprinkling the witnesses the fire was 
not allowed to be mended; while the act took place, a prayer 
was offered up to God to discover the truth. When the trial 
was over, the hand or arm was bound up, and the bandages were 
not removed until the expiration of three days. It does not 
appear that the marks of burning or scalding were the tests of 
guilt; it was only when the wounds were found foul and un- 
healed that the accused was pronounced guilty; if they looked 
healthy and well, and were nearly healed, it was considered a 
proof of innocence. It will be readily imagined that few who 
were guilty would willingly undergo such a trial, for it must be 
borne in mind that punishment still followed; and when the 
signs were unfavourable, there can be but little doubt after so 
solemn a ceremony that the penalty the accused was doomed to 
suffer must have been severe. It could, however, like homicide, 




7^ /yvj, (J^ocCea^C . 



S 



GOVERNMENT AND LAWS OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS. 347 

be compounded for; and capital punishment seems seldom to 
have taken place amongst the Saxons, unless the crime was com- 
mitted in open day, and the culprit was caught in the fact, or 
under such circumstances as were considered too clear to need 
any trial; in such cases, vengeance was generally taken on the 
spot, and the robber or murderer was either hanged upon the 
nearest tree, or slain where he was captured — no evidence was 
required, — no defence was allowed. 

There were two other forms of ordeal, called the cross and the 
corsned; the former consisted of two pieces of wood, which were 
covered over, one bearing the mark of the cross; if the accused 
drew this, he was considered innocent; if the piece that was un- 
marked, guilty. The other consisted in swallowing a piece of 
bread which the priest had blessed; if it stuck in the throat, or 
the culprit turned pale, or trembled, or had a difficulty in swal- 
lowing it, he stood condemned. Besides fines, many of the 
punishments they inflicted were severe; they used the whip and 
the heated brand, mutilated the face, imprisoned, banished, sen- 
tenced the guilty to slavery, or doomed them to suffer imprison- 
ment, while their capital punishments appear to have been 
hanging and stoning to death. The land was divided into what 
was called " folkland" and * bocland." The folkland was such 
as belonged to the king and the people; that which was held by 
agreement or charter was called "bocland," or land made over by 
agreement of the book, or some written instrument, though con- 
veyances of land were sometimes made by the delivery of an 
arrow, a spear, or any other object. The king had, however, 
his bocland or private property, as is proved by the will of king 
Alfred; and the word folkland in time was changed to crown- 
land, which, no doubt, means that the wastes and commons 
which the people were allowed to make use of, and were not 
private property, were considered to belong to the king or the 
state. Boclands appear originally only to have been granted 
during the life of the holder. It was the work of time and the 
change of events which caused them to become hereditary. The 
Saxons were divided into many classes or ranks; first stood the 
king, then the earls, nobles, or chiefs; then came the other class 
of small landed proprietors; and below these another grade, whom 
we may term freemen; the theows, ceorls, or villains, came 
last, and were slaves of the soil; if the estate changed hands, 
the theow went to the next owner; on no account could he re- 



348 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

move from the land; he was, however, protected, and, so long as 
he did his duty, could not be removed by the owner; neither 
could!" more than a regular portion of labour be exacted from 
him; but we have before alluded to his privileges in the laws of 
Ina. The ceremonies used at their witenagemotes, guilds, moots, 
and other courts, are matters of law rather than subjects suited 
to a narrative and picturesque history of England. 

LITERATURE. 

We have no proof that the early pagan Saxons possessed an 
alphabet, or had any acquaintance with a written language, 
until the introduction of Christianity; for, unlike the Britons, 
they had not the enlightened Romans to instruct them. Even 
as late as Alfred's time, we have shown that but few of the 
English chiefs could either read or write; and we find Wihtred, 
king of Kent, as long after the Saxon invasion as the year 700, 
unable to affix his signature to a charter, but causing some 
scribe, who had probably drawn up the document, to add as an 
explanation to the royal mark, that " I, Wihtred, king of Kent, 
have put this sign of the holy cross to the charter, on account 
of my ignorance of writing." As the Saxons were the avowed 
enemies of the ancient Cymry, and came amongst them only to 
slay, destroy, and take possession of the land, it is easy to ac- 
count for the length of time that must have elapsed before the 
Britons would impart the knowledge they had gathered from 
the Romans to their Saxon conquerors. 

One of the earliest histories we possess is that to which the 
name of Gildas is affixed, who appears, however, to have be- 
longed to the Cymry, and to have had a brother at that period 
who was celebrated as one of the Welsh bards. To him we 
have already alluded; also to Nennius, who is said to have been 
one of the monks of Bangor, and to have had a narrow escape 
from the massacre, in which so many of his brethren perished. 
To his early history of Britain we have before alluded. Colum- 
banus, a celebrated Irishman, who died in Italy about the year 
615, appears to have been well acquainted with both the Greek 
and Hebrew languages. Literature at this period seems to 
have been confined principally to the monasteries; and towards 
the close of the sixth century, we find Aldhelm, an abbot of 
Malmsbury, celebrated for his Latin writings. "But his mean- 



LITERATURE OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS. 349 

ing," says Sharon Turner, " is clouded by gorgeous rhetoric: his 
style an endless tissue of figures, which he never leaves till he 
has converted every metaphor into a simile, and every simile 
into a wearisome episode." But the venerable Bede's is the 
most distinguished name amongst the early Anglo-Saxon 
writers. He also wrote in Latin, and his ecclesiastical history 
of England still stands as the chief authority, whence we 
derive the clearest knowledge of the manners and customs of 
the early Anglo-Saxons. He was born about 670, or 680, at a 
village named Yarrow, which stands near the mouth of the 
Tyne, and was educated at the neighbouring monastery of 
Wearmouth. He was acquainted with Egbert, the learned arch- 
bishop of York, to whom he addressed a letter, which is still 
extant. Egbert left behind him a famous library, mention of 
which is made by the celebrated Alcuin, who proposed to Charle- 
magne that the boys he was educating should be sent out of 
France, to " copy and carry back the flowers of Britain, that the 
garden might not be shut up in York, but the fruits of it placed 
in the paradise of Tours." Though both writing in the same 
language, and about the same period, no two authors out of the 
thousands who have since lived and written, have ever exhibited 
a greater contrast in the style of composition than that which 
exists between the writings of Aldhelm and Bede. " The style 
of Bede," says Turner, " in all his works, is plain and unaffected. 
Attentive only to his matter, he had little solicitude for the 
phrase in which he dressed it; but, though seldom eloquent, and 
often homely, it is clear, precise, and useful." Alfred was 
the first who translated the works of Bede into Saxon, and 
made them familiar to his subjects. Alcuin, who speaks so 
highly of the library collected at York by the archbishop Eg- 
bert, was sent on an embassy by Offa, surnamed the Terrible, 
to Charlemagne. Alcuin was a pupil of Bede's, and a native of 
Northumbria; and while he resided in France, he was instru- 
mental in persuading the emperor to collect many valuable ma- 
nuscripts. His works seem to have been written for the use and 
instruction of his friend and patron, the emperor Charlemagne; 
and, though highly valuable in their day, they lack that living 
spirit which was infused into the writings of Bede. 

But few of the civilized nations of Europe possess works 
which will bear comparison with those produced by our early 
Saxon writers; nor has any other of the Gothic tribes, from 



350 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. 

which our old Germanic language sprung, a literature of so old 
a date, that in any way approaches to the perfection attained by 
the early Anglo-Saxons. What we possess is wonderful, con- 
sidering the short time that elapsed from the first introduction 
of letters amongst the Saxons, to the troubles which followed 
the Danish invasion, when so many monasteries and libraries 
were destroyed by those illiterate but brave barbarians. The 
first business of the Saxons, after they had ceased fighting, 
and settled down in England, would be to build and plant; and 
much time and labour would be required in erecting their habi- 
tations, preparing a supply of food, and defending their posses- 
sions in a new and hostile country, before they would be enabled 
to find leisure to direct their thoughts to literature, or do any- 
thing more than establish those civil institutions which were 
necessary for the protection of the colony. They had that work 
to do which we find ready done to our own hands; fields to in- 
close, and roads to make; and even the monks to whom we are 
indebted for our earliest writings were at first compelled to 
assist in building the monasteries they wrote in, and to cultivate 
the waste lands which lay around them : yet, in spite of these 
drawbacks, what wonderful progress was made in literature by 
the close of the reign of Alfred! Though illiterate, the early 
Saxons were a highly intelligent race: look at the speech of 
the chieftain we have already quoted in the reign of Edwin, 
the king of Deiri — the beautiful and applicable imagery of the 
bird, the warm hall it enters in winter, and the cold and dark- 
ness, which is compared to death, that reigns without; all 
evince a fine appreciation of the true elements which constitute 
poetry; yet we have no doubt in our own minds that this 
heathen orator could neither read nor write. When the Saxons 
once turned their attention to letters, none of the barbarous na- 
tions excelled them — the progress made during the reign of 
Alfred, we again repeat, is marvellous. 

Nothing can be more primitive than our Anglo-Saxon poetry. 
Every line bears the stamp of originality. The praise of brave 
warriors is ever the subject. It has always been the same. They 
but extolled what then stood highest in their estimation — the 
brave — the giver of rewards — the terror of enemies — the leader 
of battles are but the plaudits of men put into metre — the 
natural outbreak of admiration. Watch a fond mother when 



LITERATUILE OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS. 351 

alone, talking to her infant — nature is still the same — she 
addresses it as her darling, her dearest, her life, her delight; 
and when she has exhausted every endearing epithet — uttered 
every fond word that her heart dictated, she evinces her affec- 
tion by caresses. To what lengths could we extend the com- 
parison! But neither mother nor child in those days called forth 
the lavish praises which were expended on a brave chieftain. 
We need only refer to the extracts we have already given in 
the body of our history, from the Welsh bards, to prove this. 
The literature in no country was ever built upon so original a 
foundation as that of the Anglo-Saxons. Their language at an 
early period was enriched by the Danish: their habits re- 
sembled those of the sea-kings. Long before the Norman 
conquest, they had melted into one ; the sea-horses, and the 
road of the swans, were to them familiar images; there was a 
sublimity about the ocean, and the storm, and the giant head- 
lands, which they felt and understood; and had we the space, 
we could fill pages with proofs of this grand poetical appre- 
ciation — of this natural inspiration. The Saxon ode which 
celebrates Athelstan's victory at Brunansburgh bears evidence 
of the fiery spirit which the Scandinavians diffused. Neither 
drew from the classic stores of Rome or Greece. 

Their homilies and graver works scarcely come within the 
compass of our history; they require more serious treatment 
than we are able to bestow upon them. Those attributed to 
Alfric are now on the eve of becoming widely known; and we 
doubt not but that, in the course of time, the study of the 
Anglo-Saxon language will be pursued by every man who 
aspires to literature. A few days' attention to it, renders the 
reading of Chaucer easy; and although it may be long before 
the student is enabled to decypher an old Saxon manuscript, 
yet he will be rewarded by the facility with which he will get 
through our early stores of black-letter lore. 

Ballads were sung in the English streets before the time of 
Alfred. Our music and singing-parties are nothing new. More 
than a thousand years ago, the harp sounded in the festal hall, 
accompanied by the voice of the singer. Look at the beauty of 
the following extract. It is an old Saxon ditty, and was known 
long before the Normans invaded England. Read it; then turn 
to some of our specimens of modern versification. The exile is 



352 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

banished from his friends, and encounters many hardships. He 
is doomed to dwell in a cave within the forest; and thus he 
complains: — 

This earthly dwelling is cold, and I am weary ; 

The mountains are high up, the dells are gloomy, 

Their streets full of branches, roofed with pointed thorns ; 

I am weary of so cheerless an abode. 

My friends are now all in the earth — ' 

The grave guards all that I loved ; 

I alone remain above, and thitherward am I goiug. 

All the long summer day I sit weeping 

Under the oak tree, near my earthly cave, 

And there may I long weep. 

The exile's path still lies through a land of troubles ; 

My mind knows no rest — it is the cave of care. 

Throughout life has weariness ever pursued me. 

This passage wants but the polish of Shakspeare, and to be 
uttered by his own mournful monarch, king Richard the Second, 
to be worthy of a place in his immortal writings.* 

ARCHITECTURE, ART, AND SCIENCE. 

That the Saxons possessed considerable skill in architecture 
before they took possession of England, we have already shown 
in our description of the Pagan temple, which was erected in 
their own country.f It is also on record, that the Christian 
missionaries sent over by Pope Gregory, converted the heathen 
temples, which they found already erected in our island, into 
churches, destroying only the idols they found therein; but 
whether these edifices were erected by the Britons or Romans, 
or by the Saxons themselves, it is difficult to decide. All we 
know for a certainty is, that the church in which Augustan and 
his monks were located on their arrival at Canterbury was called 
an ancient British temple, and was probably built by the first 
Christians who were converted by the Romans. The earliest 
churches which the Saxons erected after their conversion to 
Christianity were formed of wood, and covered with thatch; and 
even as late as the time of Chaucer, we find mention of the 

* I had marked several passages in the translated poems of Beowulf, Judith, 
Cedmon, &c, which would require but little alteration to insure them a place 
amongst our choicest extracts ; but am compelled to omit them, as they would 
occupy too much space, and scarcely be in keeping with the character of the 
present work. 

t See p. 61. 



ARTS AND SCIENCES OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS. 353 

sacred edifices being roofed with the same substance. The cele- 
brated cathedral of Lindisfarne could boast of no costlier material 
than sawn oak and a straw roof, until Eadbert, the seventh 
bishop, removed the thatch, and threw over the rafters a cover- 
ing of lead. The minster of York, founded by Edwin, after 
his marriage with Edilburga, the daughter of Ethelbert, was 
built of stone; and as early as 669, we find mention of the 
windows being glazed. Prior to this period, the windows con- 
sisted of mere openings in the walls, through which the light 
was admitted; they were called eye-holes, and were protected 
by lattice- work, through which the birds flew in and out, and 
built inside the fabric; nor was there any other means of keep- 
ing out the rain and snow, excepting by lowering down the 
simple linen blinds. The few remains we possess of Saxon 
architecture display great strength and solidity without grace. 
The columns are low and massy, the arches round and heavy, 
seeming as if they formed a portion of the bulky pillars, instead 
of springing from them with that light and airy grace which 
is the great beauty of Gothic architecture. Their chief orna- 
ment in building appears to have been the zig-zag moulding 
which resembles sharks' teeth. The very word they used in 
describing this form of ornament also signified to gnaw or eat; 
and from the Saxon word fret, or teeth work, the common term 
of fret-work arose. Towards the close of the seventh century, the 
celebrated bishop Wilfrid, who had visited Rome, made great im- 
provements in ecclesiastical architecture. He brought with him 
several eminent artists from Italy; and as he stood high in the 
favour of Oswy, king of the Deiri and Bernicia, he was enabled 
to reward his architects liberally. He restored the church which 
Paulinus founded at York. But the most celebrated edifice 
he raised, appears to have been the church at Hexham, of which 
the following description is given by Richard, who was the 
prior of Hexham, and who wrote while the building still existed 
about the close of the twelfth century: — " The foundations of 
this church," says prior Richard, ls were laid deep in the earth 
for the crypts and oratories, and the passages leading to them, 
which were then with great exactness contrived and built under 
ground. The walls, which were of great length, and raised to 
an immense height, and divided into three several stories, or 
tiers, he supported by square and various other kinds of well- 
polished columns. Also, the walls, the capitals of the columns 

A A 



354 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

which supported them, and the arch of the sanctuary, he deco- 
rated with historical representations, imagery, and various figures 
in relief, carved in stone, and painted with a most agreeable 
variety of colours. The body of the church he compassed about 
with pentices and porticoes, which, both above and below, he 
divided, with great and inexpressible art, by partition walls and 
winding stairs. Within the staircases, and above them, he 
caused flights of steps and galleries of stone, and several passages 
leading from them, both ascending and descending, to be artfully 
disposed, that multitudes of people might be there, and go quite 
round the church, without being seen by any one below in the 
nave." Prior Eichard goes on further to state, that he also 
caused several altars to be erected to the blessed saints. In 767, 
the church of St. Peter's at York having been either damaged or 
destroyed by fire, was rebuilt by archbishop Albert, assisted by 
the celebrated Alcuin. Here, also, we find mention of lofty 
arches, supported on columns, of vaultings, windows, porticoes, 
galleries, and altars, richly ornamented. What additions the 
genius of Alfred made to the architecture of the period we know 
not. We have, however, already shown that he set apart a great 
portion of his revenue to the building and repairing of churches. 
But he lived amid stormy times, when the strengthening of 
military fortresses was of more consequence to the welfare of 
his kingdom than the erection of costly edifices; and during the 
ravages of the Danes the fine arts appear not to have made any 
advance. 

We have scarcely any records of the domestic architecture of 
the Saxons, but may safely infer, from the simple style of their 
early churches, that their houses were built of wood, and 
thatched with reeds, and we have proof that timber houses con- 
tinued until a comparatively modern period. 

Of their painting and sculpture we know but little: the horn 
of Ulphus, which is still preserved, is beautifully carved; and 
we find mention of the tomb of the bishop of Hexham having 
been richly decorated. Their paintings seem to have been im- 
ported from Eome, and were principally pictures of saints and 
martyrs, which appear to have formed the most attractive 
ornaments in their churches. Their illuminated missals we 
have already alluded to. The Saxon ladies were skilful em- 
broiderers, weavers, and spinners, arts in which the daugh- 
ters of Edward the Elder excelled. Even the celebrated St. 



ARTS AND SCIENCES OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS. 355 

Dunstan, with all his surliness, deigned to draw patterns for 
his fair countrywomen to copy in their embroidery. Among 
other costly gifts, mentioned in a Charter relating to Croyland 
Abbey, granted by a king of Mercia, we find a golden veil, on 
which was enwrought the famous siege of Troy. Many of the 
initial letters, already mentioned, are of the most intricate pat- 
terns, scroll is interlaced within scroll, chain-like links, and 
heads of birds and serpents, running into the most beautiful 
flourishes, and compelling us to admit that the Saxons were 
either excellent copyists, or gifted with considerable invention. 

Their musical instruments consisted of horns, trumpets, flutes, 
drums, cymbals, a stringed instrument not unlike the violin, 
which was played upon with a bow, and the harp; and in their 
churches organs which must have shaken the sacred buildings 
with their powerful tones. Dunstan was celebrated for his skill 
upon the harp; he also made an organ with brass pipes, and 
made several presents of bells to the Saxon churches. From 
the description given of a harp in an old poem, it was made of 
birch-wood, with oaken keys, and strung with the long hairs 
pulled from the tails of horses. The cymbals were formed of 
mixed metals, and when played, struck on the concave side, as 
they are now; and Bede dwells upon their beautiful modulation 
in the hands of a skilful player. He describes the drum as 
having been made of stretched leather, fastened on rounded hoops, 
and which emitted a loud sound when struck — he mentions 
tones, and semi-tones, and thus concludes his remarks on the 
power of music: "Among all the sciences this is the more 
commendable, pleasing, courtly, mirthful, and lovely. It makes 
men liberal, cheerful, courteous, glad, and amiable — it rouses 
them to battle — it exhorts them to bear fatigue, and comforts 
them under labour: it refreshes the mind that is disturbed, 
chases away headache and sorrow, and dispels the depraved 
humours, and cheers the desponding spirits." We find the 
Saxon organs described as rising high, some having gilded pipes, 
and many pairs of bellows; one especially is pointed out by the 
monk Wolfstan, as having stood in Winchester cathedral. 
" Such a one," says the monk, " had never before been seen." 
" It seems to have been a prodigious instrument," says Sharon 
Turner, in a note to his History of the Anglo-Saxons. "It had 
twelve bellows above, and fourteen below, which were alter- 
nately worked by seventy strong men, covered with perspiration, 

a a2 



356 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

and emulously animating each other to impel the blast with all 
their strength. There were four hundred pipes, which the hand 
of the skilful organist shut or opened as the tune required. 
Two friars sat at it, whom a rector governed. It had concealed 
holes adopted to forty keys; they struck the seven notes of the 
octave, the carmine of the lyric semi-tone being mixed. It 
must," adds the learned historian, " have reached the full sub- 
lime of musical sound, so far as its quantity produces sublimity." 
In arithmetic, they simply studied the division of even num- 
bers, separating them into those " metaphysical distinctions of 
equally equal, and equally unequal," though they seem to have 
attained something approaching to perfection in calculation. In 
natural philosophy, Bede was far in advance of many of the 
Roman writers. In astronomy, they drew their information 
from such Greek and Latin treatises as chanced to fall into 
their hands. They believed that comets portended war, pesti- 
lence, and famine, and all those evils which the ignorant still 
attribute to their appearance in the present day. Of geography 
they knew but little, until the work of Orosius was translated 
by our own Alfred. They trusted to cure diseases by charms, 
though they were not without physicians, herbs being what they 
principally used for medicine; and, no doubt, many of our village 
herb-doctors, who trust to the full or wane of the moon, for 
finding the healing virtues in their favourite plants, are fair 
samples of the early Saxon practitioner in the same art; and 
that many such old books, as "The Gentlewoman's Closet," &c, 
contain the genuine recipes used by the Saxons. From a rare 
original work, in our possession, we quote the following, whose 
counterpart may be found in many a valuable Saxon MS.: "The 
sixth and tenth days of March shalt thou draw out blood of the 
right arm, the eleventh day of April, and in the end of May, of 
which arm thou wilt, and that against a fever; and if thou dost, 
neither shalt thou lose thy sight, nor thou shalt have no fever so 
long as thou livest ! " He who fell sick on the first day of the 
month, was supposed to be in danger for three days after; on the 
second day, would get well; on the third, was to be ill for twenty- 
eight days; on the fourth, to escape; on the fifth, to suffer 
grievously; on the eighth, " if he be not whole on the twelfth day, 
he shall be dead." And so on for every day throughout the 
month and year.* 

* "A Groat's worth of Wit." No date. 



COSTUME ETC. OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS. 357 



COSTUME, MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND EVERYDAY LIFE. 

Of the every-day life and domestic manners of our Anglo- 
Saxon forefathers, we possess considerable information, partly 
from written records, such as charters, wills, grants, and leases, 
but more especially from the drawings which we find in the 
ancient manuscripts which are still preserved. Amongst the 
higher classes we discover that the walls were hung with tapes- 
try, ornamented with gold and rich colours, for the needles of 
the Saxon ladies seem ever to have been employed in forming 
birds, animals, trees, and flowers, upon the hangings which were 
so necessary to keep out the wind that must have blown in at 
every chink of their wooden apartments. Their garments were 
loose and flowing, that of the men consisting of a shirt, over 
which they wore a coat or tunic, open at the neck and partly up 
the sides, having wide sleeves which reached to the wrists; and 
as this was ample enough to be put on by slipping it over the 
head, (not unlike the common frock worn by our carters or pea- 
santry,) it was occasionally, and no doubt always in cold wea- 
ther, to make it sit closer, confined to the waist by a girdle or belt. 
Over this they occasionally wore a short cloak, which was fas- 
tened to the breast by a brooch or loop; they also wore drawers 
or long hose, which were bandaged crosswise, from the ankle to 
the knee, with strips of coloured cloth or leather. Their shoes, 
which were open at the front, were secured by thongs; and 
though the poorer classes are sometimes represented as bare- 
legged, yet they are seldom drawn without shoes, which are 
generally painted black, while many of them wear the short 
stocking or sock. That their shoes were made of leather is ex- 
pressly stated by Bede, who describes St. Cuthbert, as often 
keeping on his shoes for months together, and that it was with 
difficulty he could be persuaded to take them off, to permit his 
feet to be made clean. Hats or caps they seem rarely to have 
worn, although there are one or two instances in which they 
appear. They seem generally to have gone bareheaded, except- 
ing when in battle; then they wore a pointed helmet. In nearly all 
the early illustrations, we find the hair worn long, parted in the 
middle, and falling down upon the neck and shoulders. The 
beard is also long and forked. Silk garments were not uncom- 
mon amongst the nobles: as early as the time of Ethelbert, king 
of Kent, mention is made of a silk dress. We also read of a 



358 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

coronation garment, which was made of silk, and woven of gold 
and flowers. In the churches the altars were generally covered 
with silk, and at his death, the body of the venerable Bede was 
enclosed in a silken shroud. The Saxon noblemen seem to have 
been lavish in their ornaments, and to have worn costly brace- 
lets on their arms, and rings upon their fingers — the ring 
appears to have been worn uj5on the third finger of the right 
hand — it was called the gold finger, and the penalty for cutting 
this off was greater than for amputating any of the other fingers. 
Furs of the sable, beaver, fox, martin, and other animals, were 
also worn, and amongst the poorer classes the skins of lambs and 
sheep. 

The costume of the Saxon ladies seems to have varied but 
little, excepting in length, from that worn by the men. The 
gunna, or gown, which was worn over the skirt or kirtle, was 
of the same form as the tunic already described; it was a little 
shorter than the kirtle, which reached to the feet — the latter 
being covered by shoes similar to those already mentioned. The 
women, however, wore a head-dress, formed of linen or silk, 
which looks not unlike the hood of comparatively modern times. 
It was called the head-rail, and besides forming a covering for 
the head, was made to enfold the neck and shoulders, not unlike 
the gorget which we see in ancient armour, in appearance; but 
formed by throwing fold over fold — making the face appear as 
if it looked out from a close-fitting helmet or gorget. Nor were 
the Saxon ladies at all deficient in ornaments. They had their 
cuffs and ribbons, necklaces and bracelets, ear-rings and brooches, 
set with gems — were quite adepts at twisting and curling the 
hair; and, as it is the historian's duty to tell the whole truth, we 
are compelled to confess, that at this early period they were also 
guilty of painting their cheeks, so that England has long had its 
rouged, as well as its rosy daughters. We read also of pale tunics, 
of dun-coloured garments, of white kirtles — and, in the Anglo- 
Saxon illustrations, we see robes of purple bordered with yellow, 
of green striped with red, of lilac interlaced with green, crimson 
striped with purple, all showing that a love of rich and pleasing 
colours was, above a thousand years ago, common to the ladies 
of England. Gloves appear to have been rarely worn. The 
sleeve of the tunic was made long enough to be drawn over the 
hand in cold weather; where the glove is represented, the thumb 
only is separate, the remainder of the fingers are covered, without 



COSTUME ETC. OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS. 359 

any division, like the mits, or mittens, worn by children at the 
present day. The military costume we have already described: 
nor does it appear to have undergone any alteration until after 
the Norman Conquest. They wore helmets, had wooden shields 
covered with leather, rimmed, and bossed with iron, had a kind 
of ringed armour to defend the breast, and such weapons as we 
have frequently made mention of in our descriptions of the battles. 
Turning to their furniture, we find, that besides benches and 
stools, they had also seats with backs to them, not unlike the 
chairs or sofas of the present day. Many of these are richly 
ornamented with the forms of lions, eagles, and dragons; and no 
better proof need be advanced than this profusion of carved 
work, to show, that in their domestic comforts they had stepped 
far beyond the mere wants and common necessaries of life, and 
made considerable progress in its refinements and luxuries. 
Their chairs and tables were not only formed of wood richly 
carved, but sometimes inlaid with gold, silver, and ivory. Nor 
were the eating and drinking vessels of the nobles less costly. 
Mention is made of gold and silver cups, on which figures of 
men and animals were engraven; and the weight of some of 
these was from two to four pounds. They covered their tables 
with cloths; had knives, spoons, drinking-horns, bowls, dishes, 
but in no instance do we meet with a fork. The roast meat 
or fowl appears to have been served on long spits; each guest 
cut off what he approved of, and then the attendant passed on 
to the next, who also helped himself — the bread and salt standing 
ready for all upon the table. The Saxons were hard drinkers — 
mead, wine, and ale flowed freely at their feasts; and it seems to 
have been a common custom for the guests to have slept in the 
apartment where the feast was held; for we read of the tables 
being removed, of bolsters being brought into the hall, and the 
company throwing themselves upon the floor, their only covering 
being their cloaks or skins, while their weapons were suspended 
from the boarded walls over their heads. Bedsteads were, how- 
ever, in use, though they appear to have been low; the part 
where the head rested was raised like the end of a modern 
couch; beds, pillows, bed-clothes, curtains, sheets, and coverlets 
of linen and skins, are occasionally mentioned in the old Saxon 
wills, where we also find both the words sacking and bolster. 
The bed-pillows appear occasionally to have been made of 
plaited straw; and in one place we find mention of bed-curtains 



360 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

formed of gilded fly-net, but what this may have been we are 
ignorant of. We read also of candlesticks, hand-bells, and mir- 
rors, being made of silver. Glass appears to have been used 
more sparingly, though it is mentioned by Bede as being " used 
for lamps and vessels of many uses." The use of the bath is 
also frequently named; and we find them using frankincense, 
pepper, and cinnamon, and other spices. 

England, at this period, abounded in woods, and the chief 
meat of the Saxons appears to have been the flesh of swine. 
Swine are frequently mentioned in wills. They were given in 
dowries, bequeathed to abbeys and monasteries, together with the 
land on which the swine fed. Oxen and sheep they used more 
sparingly; and it is very probable that they were not at this 
period so plentiful as swine. Deer, goats, and hares, and several 
varieties of fowl, were also used for food. Offish, the eel appears 
to have been the most abundant. Eels were often received in 
payment of rent; estates were held by no other form than that 
of presenting so many eels annually; and eel-dykes are men- 
tioned as forming the boundary lines of different possessions. 
Herrings, salmon, sturgeons, flounders, plaice, crabs, lobsters, 
oysters, muscles, cockles, winkles, and even the porpoise, is 
named amongst the fish which they consumed. Cheese, milk, 
butter, and eggs, were among the common articles of the food 
of the Saxons. They used also both wheat and barley bread, 
and had wind and water mills to grind their corn. They appear 
to have been great consumers of honey; and amongst their vege- 
tables, beans and colewort are frequently mentioned. In their 
soups they used herbs; and amongst their fruits we find pears, 
apples, grapes, nuts, and even almonds and figs were grown in 
the orchards which belonged to the monasteries. Salt was ex- 
tensively used; and they seem to have slaughtered numbers of 
their cattle in autumn, which they cured and salted for winter 
consumption; and from this we might infer that there was a 
scarcity of fodder during the winter months. They boiled, 
baked, and roasted their victuals as we do now. Mention is 
made of their ovens and boiling vessels, and of their fish having 
been broiled. To eat or drink what a cat or dog had spoiled, 
they were compelled afterwards to undergo a penance; also, if 
any one gave to another any liquor in which a mouse or a 
weazel had been found dead, four days' penance was inflicted; 
or if a monk, he was doomed to sing three hundred psalms. 



COSTUME ETC. OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS. 361 

There seem to have been ale-houses or taverns at a very early- 
period; and we find a priest forbidden to either eat or drink in 
those places where ale was sold. So plentiful does animal food 
appear to have been, that a master was prohibited from giving 
it to his servants on fast-days; if he did, he was sentenced to 
the pillory. 

Beginning with their in-door sports and pastimes, we find 
games similar to chess and backgammon amongst their social 
amusements, while gleemen, dancers, tumblers, and harpers, con- 
tributed to their merriment. In the early illuminations we see 
jugglers throwing up three knives and balls, and catching each 
alternately, just as the same feat is performed in the present day. 
The Saxons were also great lovers of the chase. Alfred, as we 
have shown, was a famous hunter; and Harold received his sur- 
name of Harefoot through his swiftness in following the chase. 
Boars and wild deer appear to have been their favourite game, 
and sometimes they hunted down " the grey wolf of the weald." 
Wolf-traps and wolf-pits are often mentioned in the Saxon 
records. England was not in those days cursed with game-laws. 
Every man might pursue the game upon his own land, and 
over hundreds of miles of wood and moor-hill, dale and common, 
without any one interfering with him. There was no exception 
made, only to the spot in which the king hunted, and this re- 
striction appears only to have been limited to the time and 
place where he followed the chase. When the royal hunt was 
over, the forest was again free. The Saxons hunted with hawks 
and hounds; and Alfred the Great wrote instructions on the 
management of hawks. Nets, pits, bows and arrows, and slings, 
were also used for capturing and destroying game. 

The women were protected by many excellent laws; and violence 
offered to them was visited by such severe pains and penalties as 
make us ashamed of the justice which the insulted female obtains 
in modern times when she seeks redress. The first step towards 
marriage consisted in obtaining the lady's consent, the second 
that of her parents or friends; the intended husband then pledged 
himself to maintain his wife in becoming dignity ; his friends were 
bound for the fulfilment of his engagement. Next, provision was 
made for the children; and here, again, the husband had to find 
sureties. Then came the morgen-gift, or jointure, which was 
either money or land, paid or made over the day after the mar- 
riage. Provision was also made in case of the husband's death, 



362 HISTOKY OF ENGLAND. 

but if a widow married within twelve months of her widowhood 
she forfeited all claim to the property of her former husband. 
The marriage ceremony was solemnized by the presence of the 
priest, who having consecrated their union, prayed for the 
Divine blessing to settle upon them, and that they might live in 
holiness, happiness, and prosperity. Women had property in 
their own right, which they could dispose of without the hus- 
band's consent; they were also witnesses at the signing of deeds 
and charters. In the Saxon manuscripts we never meet with the 
figures of women engaged in out-of-door labour; this was always 
done by the men, although the wealthy classes had their slaves 
of both sexes. To women the household occupation seems solely 
to have belonged. Alfred the Great wrote the following beauti- 
ful description of the love of a wife for her husband: — " She 
lives now for thee, and thee only; hence she loves nothing else 
but thee. She has enough of every good in this present life, 
but she has despised it all for thee alone. She has shunned it 
all because she has not thee also. This one thing is now want- 
ing to her; thine absence makes her think that all which she 
possesses is nothing. Hence, for thy love she is wasting; and 
full nigh dead with tears and sorrow." Who can doubt but that 
this passage describes his own feelings, when he wandered 
hungry and homeless about the wilds of Athelney, and thought 
of her he had left weeping in solitude behind ? It is one of the 
many beautiful original passages which are found in his Boethius, 
for Alfred was no mere translator, but enriched his author from 
the storehouse of his own thoughts. 

While pagans, the Saxons frequently burnt the bodies of their 
dead, but this custom they for ever abandoned after they became 
converts to Christianity. Their first mode of interment appears 
to have been a grave, in which they placed the body without 
any covering excepting the earth which was thrown over it. 
Sometimes the body was rolled in a sheet of lead; and at Swine- 
head's Abbey, in Lincolnshire; several skeletons have been dug 
up lately, wrapped round with the same material, but without any 
vestige of a coffin appearing; though this is no proof of wooden 
coffins not having been used at the period of interment, which 
through the lapse of long centuries may have decayed and 
mingled with the soil. Stone coffins were commonly used by 
the wealthy, and but few were at first allowed to be buried within 
walled towns. By degrees the churches began to be used as 



COSTUME ETC. OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS. 363 

places of sepulture, though only men distinguished for their piety 
and good works -appear at first to have been buried in these 
ancient edifices. After a time, the churches and church -yards 
became crowded with graves, and then the bodies were removed 
to some distance for burial. The passing-bell was ruag at a 
very early period; it is mentioned by Bede, and there is but 
little doubt that the custom dates from nearly the first introduc- 
tion of Christianity. The clergy, on the death of a person, re- 
ceived a payment, called the " soul-scot," which at times amounted 
to an immense sum; even land was left by the dead, that prayers 
might be offered up for the welfare of the soul ; and thus in 
early times the churches were enriched. The burial of Arch- 
bishop Wilfred, in the eighth century, is thus described by 
Eddius: — " Upon a certain day, many abbots and clergy met 
thpse who conducted the corpse of the holy bishop in a hearse, 
and begged that they might be permitted to wash the body, and 
dress it honourably, as befitted its dignity. This was granted;, 
and an abbot named Baculus then spread his surplice on the 
ground, and the brethren depositing the body upon it, washed it 
with their own hands, then, dressing it in the ecclesiastical habit, 
they carried it along, singing psalms and hymns as they pro- 
ceeded. When they approached the monastery, the monks came 
out to meet it, and scarcely one refrained from shedding tears 
and weeping aloud. And thus it was borne, amid hymns and 
tears, to its final resting-place, the church which the good bishop 
had built and dedicated to St. Peter." The Saxons had also 
gilds or clubs, in which the artizans, or such as seem to have 
consisted of the middle classes, subscribed for the burial of a 
member, and a fine was inflicted upon every brother who did 
not attend the funeral. Thus, above a thousand years ago, were 
burial societies established in England — a clear proof of the 
respect which the Saxons paid to their dead. 



Savill & Edwards, Printers, 4, Chandos-street, Covent-garden. 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 

BY WILLIAM HARVEY, ESQ. 



1. Conversion of Ethelbert Frontispiece, 

2. Combat between Romans and Britons 22 

3. CaRACTACUS CARRIED CAPTIVE TO ROME 33 

4. VORTIGERN AND RoWEXA 67 

5. Alfred describing the Danish Camp ISO 

6. Alfred releasing the Family of Hastings 188 

7. Dunstan dragging King Edwin from Elgiva 221 

8. The Welsh Tribute of Wolves' Heads 232 

9. Canute rebuking his Courtiers 262 

10. Harold Swearing on the Relics of the Saints -300 

11. Discovery of the Body of Harold 338 

12. Trial by Ordeal 34G 



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